


No More Centaurs in Oxford

by thiccskeleton



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Danny Lives, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Hurt, M/M, Michael is an assistant when Gerry starts working with Gertrude, Multi, Other, Scrambled Michael Timeline, and you're welcome to join me, bailey margo is the reader, man I am just having the time of my life with this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25258843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiccskeleton/pseuds/thiccskeleton
Summary: From a young age your relationship with death had always been a bit of an odd thing; and Death took notice of that. As you grew older it became apparent that you were fit to serve a role left vacant for some time. When it came time, you took it like it had always been meant for you. But... well...Not even The End could've foreseen the path you would travel afterwards.a/n: Fic was originally hosted on my main account called skreaver, it's now being hosted here but it's the same person!
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley/Reader, Gerard Keay/Original Character(s), Gerard Keay/Reader, Jonathan Sims & Reader, Michael "Mike" Crew/Gerard Keay/Reader, Michael "Mike" Crew/Reader, Michael Shelley/Reader, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives)/Original Character(s), Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives)/Reader, the michael smooching comes later but itll be there
Comments: 17
Kudos: 61





	1. Premonitions

The place was much the same as you remembered the last time you were there. 

Sure, it had only been a few years, but you had expected  _ something  _ to have changed. A desk to have been moved. A decoration that further exemplified the pretentious air of the place, to have been added. But nothing had changed. The employees looked as bookish and half into their jobs as they ever had. Aimlessly, they flicked through papers as their eyes drooped and threatened to close. Some, like the woman at reception, had half a mind to  _ look  _ like they were alive. Though, in the place of the Ceaseless Watcher you didn't know what you were really expecting. 

"Hello. What can I do for you today?" the aforementioned woman asked, a placid smile on her face. 

"Oh, actually I was here to make a statement? You guys still do that, right?" you asked, shifting a bit uncomfortably as the feeling of eyes on your back bit at you. At least you knew you weren't imagining it. 

"Certainly do. Just give me one moment. I'll get someone to take you downstairs" the woman nodded, reaching for the phone at her desk. "You can wait over there, if you like" 

She gestured to a row of chairs off to the side, completely empty, and you made your way over to take a seat. You heard her talking to someone named "Martin" from your corner and frowned. That hardly sounded like it belonged to the name of the person you were after, but hopefully that would come later. Hopefully if you could even just give them a warning, that might help. You couldn't help the odd chuckle though as you thought about how Oliver might've sighed at you had you told him. How he might've tiredly told you that there was nothing to be done, that he'd tried. But you couldn't let it go, could you? 

About fifteen minutes later a big boned, young man with tousled, blond locks and a gentle - almost nervous - smile appeared. He made his way over to you after confirming with the woman at reception that you were the one he was looking for. 

You offered him a smile and he maintained his.

"H-Hello, I assume you must be Mx Margo?" he asked. You noticed his eyes trace over the tattoos that poked out just over your sweater, and particularly the tarantula behind your ear. 

"That would be me, yes" you answered, keeping your tone inviting. 

"Nice to meet you! My name is Martin Blackwood, I'm an assistant in the archives. Now, I'm sure you'd rather, er, get this over with but there is some information I need from you first" he explained, taking a seat next to you. 

"That's fine, I figured as much" you assured him.

"Right, okay. So, for the record, can I have your first and last name?" 

"Bailey Margo" you answered. 

"Thank you. And when was the date of your incident?" 

"Er" you took a moment, realizing you hadn't actually gotten that far, but quickly picked a recent date and plucked a sordid memory from your mind. "Two days ago, July 27th, 2016" 

Martin looked at you in a way that showed he'd become a tad suspicious, but it wasn't like he could turn you away. "And your incident is regarding?" 

"Uhm" the discontented look on your face turned his suspicion to sympathy. Likewise, your stomach churned at the memory. "Re… reanimated meat. If you can believe that? Heh" 

"Oh, uhm, I see" he fumbled. "I'm, I'm sorry to hear that" 

"It's okay. Just hoping your archivist can maybe help me make sense of it, or… something" you shrugged, uneasy smile still present. 

"Right, well I'm sure he can-" he stopped, seeming to think for a second. "But, but even if we can't we can always recommend some good therapists for you" 

You tilted your head a bit, a playful smile on your face. "You guys have therapists who deal with reanimated meat that may or may not have tried to kill me?" 

He stuttered, fumbling so much you couldn't help but laugh. 

"It's okay Mr. Blackwood. I don't expect you guys to believe me but I do want it on record in case something happens" 

He settled at that, sighing heavily. "Right, right I'm sorry. I'm… sorry, for whatever you went through. It sounds awful" 

He looked genuinely concerned, sympathy lacing in his expression. 

"It's alright, thank you. I've had a few days to sit with it. Just… need to talk about it, y'know?"

You were lying through your teeth but you just needed to get through this long enough to say your piece, hopefully save a life, and get out.

He nodded. "Right. Well, let me take you to meet our Archivist" 

When the word "archivist" registered in your brain you found that you were actually rather curious to find out who had replaced Gertrude. You and Gerry hadn't bothered to find out after the old woman died. He'd been sick the year leading up to her death and afterwards, the two of you had buried yourselves in looking into The Unknowing. 

"Sounds good" 

Martin rose from his seat and led you downstairs. It was a short trip and he offered some bashful but complimentary words on your tattoos, which you thanked him for. He especially liked the small tarantula, it seemed. 

"I've always thought bigger spiders were cute. Fluffy, even" he chuckled. 

"I'd have to agree. S'why I got the little guy" you smiled. Even though that wasn't the whole truth it wasn't wholly a lie either. 

That was about the time y ou heard shouting, a male's voice calling for the archival assistant that had led you downstairs. Another voice, notably more feminine, had joined his. They were screaming about CO2 and… worms? 

Martin scrambled into the office the voices were coming from and you lingered behind him, unsure of the situation. 

"Get the goddamn CO2!" a voice roared. 

When you peeked inside the office you found a most horrid sight. Worms, disgusting ones that you knew could only belong to The Corruption, were pouring out of a hole in the wall. Aside from Martin there were two other people in the office, one, you realized with a start, that you knew. She was the one you'd come for. Sasha James.

"Oh shit" you muttered, looking about the place and finding, for once, you didn't exactly have an escape plan. Could you bind them? Probably not, they were too corporeal. Burn them? Well, that seemed like the next best thing but you couldn't exactly toss a match on them with three other people surrounded by them. 

Looked like gunning it was the only option. 

"Hey, uh, you might want to get out of there?!" you advised, darting in and grabbing another fire extinguisher, hosing them down alongside Martin. 

The other two people in the room watched you, now bewildered to accompany their horror.

"Who the hell are you?!" the man asked. 

"Oh,  _ God _ , this is Bailey! They came to give a statement!" Martin shouted desperately over the sound of the gas buzzing out of the canisters. 

"Oh my God,  _ Martin!"  _ the woman, Sasha, yelled.

" _ I didn't know! _ How was I supposed to know Jon would decide to punch in a wall?!" Martin yelled back, voice squeaking just a bit. 

"I didn't-!" the man you didn't know, Jon apparently, went to defend himself but you cut him off. 

"Nevermind that! We have to get out of here! Pick a fucking direction and gun it!" you shouted, still hosing down the things. 

"Right,right,right, uhm" Martin stuttered, a moment later commanding "This way! Come on, follow me!" 

The four of you took off down the hall. You held onto your gas canister long after it was depleted. Your brain had decided that even if it didn't have anything left in it, it might prove useful in bludgeoning the thing that certainly made itself a home for these disgusting creatures. 

Racing down the hall, you were the last inside the room Martin had declared a safe zone. Once in there, Sasha slammed the door to the place shut. Feeling the adrenaline begin to settle you hobbled over to a corner of the room as the other three went about extracting worms from each other. Your lungs were practically burning, full of the CO2 you had inhaled. Your legs, you noticed with a start, were also burning but not in any normal way you recognized. It was only then you realized, as you hiked up your pants leg, that you had quite a few worms burrowing into your own skin.

"Oh, fuck me" you hissed, quite literally just ripping them out and squishing them in your hand. You'd gone through enough in your lifetime that while this might've grossed you out, you could handle it just fine. 

When you looked up again you found Martin blinking at you in a stupor as he absentmindedly handed Sasha a corkscrew. After which, at Jon's behest, he made his way over to the tape recorder they'd apparently brought in and checked to see if it was working. 

Meanwhile, Sasha went to work extracting the worms from Jon. He, like most normal people, let out a wail as she dug the thing into his skin and ripped the worms out. It was a gruesome thing to watch, the way they popped out of his skin. They'd riggle there in the air for a moment until the effect of having been pierced through with metal came to a culmination and they ceased their movements. This continued until a tiny pile of worm carcasses laid on the ground next to Jon. 

"There we go!" the woman exclaimed as she pulled the last one out. "And I want to point out that I didn't make this much of a fuss" 

"I think your removal was substantially cleaner" Jon huffed. 

You couldn't help the odd chuckle and, at that, the archive employees turned to look at you. They all wore an expression of innate curiosity but Jon's was tinged with the smallest bit of annoyance. He squinted at you and you suddenly found yourself feeling a bit like a jackass for having laughed. 

"You're taking this awfully well" he remarked. 

You shrugged. "Let's say it's, uh, not my first time dealing with this kind of thing?" 

"What d'you mean?" Sasha asked, cocking an eyebrow at you. 

The name alone had been enough but getting a better look at her, really seeing her face, you knew she was the one you'd come for. She was the one who was supposed to die today. 

"I'm… hmm" you thought for a minute. Judging how they were handling the situation so far, you had a feeling they didn't really understand the scale of what they were dealing with. "I'm kind of a bounty hunter, I suppose? I hunt these things" 

"Oh God" Jon sighed a ragged thing as he rubbed at his temples. " _ Of course _ " 

Martin on the other hand, had a very different reaction. 

"Sorry,  _ sorry _ did you say hunt?" he stuttered. "Like, like Trevor Herbert?" 

You smiled at the mention of the old man. "Not exactly. We run in similar circles but he's after different monsters than I am" 

"So… if not vampires, what kind of monsters  _ are _ you after?" Sasha asked. She sounded cautious, but the curiosity in her voice was undeniable. 

"Well, like the hive demon that's after you lot. Haven't seen it myself but I've dealt with similar. Looks like a person but it's filled with holes and bugs, yeah?" you grimaced. The image settled in your mind with a disgusting clarity. 

The three of them looked between each other, sharing a look you could only describe as vaguely inquisitive. Or they just thought you were nuts. 

You sighed. "Look, if you think I'm crazy, I get it. But I'm stuck, same as you, so might as well let me help"

"That's not," Jon stopped, folding his arms over his chest. He sighed. "Nevermind. What did you say your name was?" 

"Didn't, actually. Martin did" you chuckled. "But it's Bailey. Bailey Margo" 

The man fixed his glasses, pushing them up onto his nose. "Well, Bailey. My name is Jonathan Sims. I'm the head archivist" 

This guy was the new archivist? You weren't... weren't quite sure how you felt about that. He certainly wasn't Gertrude but… maybe that was a good thing. If he got his shit together of course.

"I'm Sasha" the woman from your dream introduced herself. "Sasha James" 

"And, and you know me!" Martin raised his hand with a sheepish smile. "Sorry you got dragged into this" 

You shook your head. "It's alright. I've been through worse" 

You just hoped this wouldn't be where you met your end. Not without- oh God, Gerry. He was probably expecting you home within the next half hour. The thought of dying in this place, when there shouldn't have even been a risk of that, was enough to elicit a panicked desperation in your chest. Sure, you didn't want to die, but the fear of leaving him alone was far greater than death for you. After all, The End had marked you long ago. 

"Any ideas on what to do?" Sasha asked. 

"Well, lighting them on fire would put a stop to them pretty quick" you offered. 

"We don't allow ignition sources in the Archive" Jonathan explained. 

You shifted on your feet, looking around as though you'd been caught. "I mean that might be true for  _ you"  _ you reached in your pocket and pulled out a pack of matches. " _ I _ , however, don't leave the house without an ignition source" 

"We  _ can't _ just light the archives on fire" Jonathan snapped, looking at you as though you had just threatened to burn  _ him  _ alive. 

"It wouldn't  _ be _ the archives. Just the monster controlling those worms. You guys have a fire suppression system don't you?" you tried to reason. 

But he was defiant, much to your annoyance. "Absolutely not"

"Jon, I get it, I-I do, but it might be  _ us  _ or the archives at this point" Martin agreed.

Sasha looked like she wanted to agree but what came out instead was a horrified realisation. "Oh, God. Even if we wanted to, Tim might get hurt. He doesn't know what's going on" 

Tim… 

It wasn’t  _ that  _ Tim, was it? 

It could’ve been, he did work here after all; and it wasn't like he knew about all the insane things that went on in the archives - the things you'd only just learned about not even two years ago. There was a very real possibility it was _that_ Tim. 

The thought made you sick. 

"Can we call him?" Martin suggested. 

Jonathan heaved a breath. "There's no signal down here. We just have to hope he heard the noise" 

A silence fell over them. During which, you made your way to look out the window of the door, trying to figure something out. If push came to shove you  _ were  _ going to light this bitch up. You had come here to hopefully save someone from getting killed, not get killed yourself. Really, you should've just listened to Gerry, to Oliver. You couldn't save everyone. You couldn't go around chasing every morbid dream, every creature. You were one damn person. Sure you had some unique abilities, but they weren't anything like some that other beings possessed. You couldn't drop people into the sky, or… rip out bones through clean skin. Couldn't peer into someone's thoughts or morph those thoughts into something that would break them. Not that you wanted to, but it was just the thing of it all.

"What did you really come here for, Bailey?" Jonathan asked in a low voice, drawing you alarmingly from your thoughts.

You turned to face him, a small patch of panic blooming behind your ribcage. His face was hard, regarding you with a suspicion that was, in all honesty, quite valid. It wasn't exactly coincidence that you showed up there. Though, it was rotten luck to be in this situation. The damn Web probably thought it was hilarious. And Elias, if he bothered to remember you. You were sure he was observing from somewhere. 

You blinked at Jon, unsure how to answer. Or rather, you weren't sure how much to say. "What d'you mean?" 

"You think it's not the slightest bit suspicious you showed up here, right as all this was happening? Talking about hunting monsters no less?" he asked, eyes boring into yours. 

"Jon, is this really the time?" Sasha asked, looking to him with a tired expression. 

"If they're with that  _ thing  _ then I need to  _ know.  _ I need to be sure of who exactly is trapped with us" Jon snapped. 

"Jon, you've just said it yourself! They're trapped with us! If they wanted to kill us they would've done it already" Sasha tried to argue. 

"So a monster hunter or whatever just _happens_ to show up just as this is happening? Something far bigger than us is going on here Sasha and I-" 

"Okay, okay!" you interrupted, pointedly closing your eyes. The room went quiet. All eyes were on you. "Look, you want the truth? No, I didn't come here to make a statement. But I didn't come here to hurt you either. I actually..." 

You trailed off, sighing harshly. "I came to warn you. I don't know if you'll believe me but I have  _ dreams _ . Dreams where I see events of the future and one of you was in that dream. You were  **dying** , in that dream. Lost to some horrible demon. I only knew it was  _ here _ because of the name tag on the person's shirt" 

The room was quiet, still. You tried not to look at Sasha.

"Have you... ever used the name Antonio Blake before?" Jon asked, searching your face for any sign of confirmation. 

Unfortunately for him, that wasn't an alias you'd ever chosen, nor was it one you knew.

"No, can't say I have" 

"I see" he said, even though he didn't look completely convinced. 

"Are you thinking about the dream case, Jon? The, the one with the guy who can see dead people in his dreams?" Martin asked.

"Yes. He, in a very similar fashion to Bailey here, lied to get in to give Gertrude his statement about her supposed death" Jon replied sharply. 

It sounded like Oliver from the description of events. But you weren't about to expose him. The man had been through enough. 

"Can't say I know any Antonio Blake. And it's not me, for the record" you shrugged. 

The room went quiet.

"Who was it?" Sasha asked suddenly, voice having gone soft. "In your dream?" 

You looked at her worried face and it made your heart wretch something awful. You hadn't been intending to tell her straight to her face. You had wanted to leave a statement with the Archivist, with Jon, and scram. That had been your plan. Now you were here. 

"I…" you looked away from her. "I don't think it's a good idea to say. Not now. Just, none of you go into Artefact Storage anytime soon. That table is bad news" 

"Wait, the one with-" 

"Oh God,  _ Tim!"  _

Before much else could be said, Sasha bounded up next to your place beside the room's door. She was looking out the window and when you turned to join her, your heart dropped into your stomach. 

_ Tim… _

_ It wasn’t  _ **_that_ ** _ Tim, was it? _

It was him. 

Sasha gasped. "Oh God and there's Prentiss!" 

Panic raced up into your throat as you saw the thing, the hive controlling the worms, emerging from the office they had come from. Whilst the archive staff argued amongst themselves about what to do you'd made an executive choice that now was the time to fuck shit up. You briskly walked over and grabbed the empty tank of CO2 that you had brought and made your way back to the door. 

" 'Scuse me!" you called as you raced out the door, gently knocking Sasha and Martin to the side. 

Tim didn't have much time, in the way of reacting, before you had flung the gas canister at the hive person. It knocked her back and temporarily stunted both her and her worms. But you knew it wasn't a permanent solution by far. 

"Hey Tim!" you smiled worriedly. 

His eyes locked onto you, shock and panic racing through them before finally - 

"B-Bailey?" 

Recognition. 

That was when you saw the queen of the hive regaining herself, her worms beginning to wriggle towards the two of you."I promise I can explain but it's time to go" 

You grabbed his arm and raced out the way you had come in, pulling him completely out of the archives. Some part of you felt sick leaving the others behind but you hoped they could manage while you came up with a plan. God, you really wished Gerry was here. He was a lot better at thinking on his feet than you were. 

"Wh-What, what's going on?" Tim's breathing was ragged, same as yours, as you caught your breath just outside the archives. "What, are you doing here? How is it that you always show up when monsters are around?" 

"Well, I came to give a statement but apparently that hive person had other plans" you tried to explain. "Apparently your boss made a hole in the wall and they got in? We were in a room covered in boxes for a while, until you came" you explained.

Tim looked at you, worry striking through his eyes. "Oh God, the others are still down there aren't they?" 

"They are but I've got an idea" you said, reaching into your pocket for your matches. "Jon was vehemently against the idea but that thing should go up like tinder if it's exposed to fire" 

There was a devious look in his eyes, "Fire in the archives? I'm down" then, consideration. "Wait but will they get hurt? The others?" 

"The fire  _ should  _ completely consume her but it wouldn't hurt to have another fire extinguisher just in case. You got any more?" 

Tim moved away from you and a little ways down the hall. There on the wall, hung another fire extinguisher. This one was probably meant for the normal instance of an actual fire, not supernatural worms. Luckily, it would work for both such occasions. 

"Will this work?" he asked, holding the thing up triumphantly. 

"Perfect" you grinned. 

When Tim made his way back over to you, you stepped over towards the door. "On three, I'm gonna open this door. I'll throw the match and you're gonna follow me. If  _ anything  _ goes south book it and go get help" 

Tim looked uncomfortable with that suggestion, but he nodded nonetheless. "Alright" 

"Then let's light this bitch" 

You struck the match before you opened the door, letting the fire glow in your hands. 

"One"

You took a breath. 

"Two" 

You prayed to whatever benevolent God might've existed that you'd make it home. 

"Three!" 

And you opened the door. 

You tossed the match right at the hive queen, making direct contact. The effect of such a thing was immediate. You almost marveled at how her skin caught so easily. The fire spread to the rest of the worms as well and you watched in fascinated horror as their song turned to screaming. A thousand mouths screamed at once, harmonizing in a way that vibrated deep within your eardrums. Just as it might've been getting overwhelming, they dissolved, crumbled to dust and took the fire with them. The hive queen was much the same after a few moments, nothing but a pile of ash on the floor. 

"Holy shit…" Tim breathed out from behind you, still with a firm grip on the fire extinguisher. 

"Yeah, they…" you actually had no words, really. You'd never seen flesh hives burn before, just knew they could. "Yeah" 

Tim let out a breath of air before gently pushing past you, putting out the small flames that still lingered. Following after him you examined the damage. Nothing too significant. The walls and some of the desks were scorched but overall, it wasn't anything too drastic. A few lives saved was worth the damage in your opinion. 

You walked over to the room you knew Saaha, Martin and Jon had been holed up in and gently opened the door. You peaked inside and found them huddled together towards the back of the room, probably having taken shelter when the flesh hive caught fire. They looked terrified and you couldn't exactly blame them. 

"Hey" you offered them a reassuring smile. "It's safe to come out now" 

"I, uh…" Jonathan stammered. "I… suppose it is" 

Slowly, the three of them collected themselves and walked towards the door. Cautiously, they joined you and Tim out in the hallway.

"It's nothing but ash…" Sasha mumbled, looking at the ground. 

At some point you noticed the fire alarm was going off, reality starting to fuzz back into place. 

"We should maybe get out of here" you suggested. 

"Ri… right..." Martin muttered, looking at the mess, astonished. 

Maybe it was the horror of the situation, or the way it had literally gone up in flames just like that, but the five of you were quiet as you made your way to the evacuation zone. 

You didn't stick around to meet Elias again or answer anyone's questions once you got outside. The minute your phone went off with about 20 frantic texts from Gerard you were gone. 

"I'm gonna go" you had said. "Boyfriend's a little worried" 

"Wait" Tim had grabbed onto your wrist. His grip wasn't tight, and the way he looked at you was more pleading than anything. "Can we meet up sometime? After all, you kind of just saved our lives" 

You smiled. "You have my number" 

You gently pulled your hand from his and raced off down the street, eagerly heading towards the metro. You were sure Gerry had a lot of questions but right then, all you wanted was to see his face. Even if it was angry. 

\------ 

He was sitting at the kitchen table when you walked through the door. He regarded you with a skeptical glare, cocking up an eyebrow as he waited for you to speak. You had texted him back on the way home, but he was - admittedly - still pretty pissed.

"Hey hun" you smiled sheepishly.

"Don't 'hun' me. What the hell happened?" he asked. 

You sighed, shucking off your jacket as you went to go sit down. You pulled out the chair across from him and slumped onto the table.

"I  _ thought _ you said you were just going to warn them" he said again. 

"I was!" you answered, a bit more defensively than you would've liked. Though really, it couldn't be helped after everything that had happened. 

"I went there to warn them and everything went sideways!" 

As you recalled the events, it just turned into a vent bubble of run on sentences.

"So, like, I get down into the archives, right? Apparently the new archivist busted a hole in his office? Well, fucking  _ surprise _ , there's been a damn flesh hive or something in the walls. So the next thing I know I'm trapped in a room with these people I don't know, aside from the woman who's supposed to die today. Then  _ Tim  _ of all people waltzes down into the archives,  _ apparently _ he works in there now. Then I'm throwing an empty gas canister at this hive queen to save him. Then I light the bloody son of a bitch on fire, save the day  _ I guess,  _ and manage to make it home!" 

Gerry's quiet for a minute as you decompressed, now having fully realized the situation.

"Damn" he breathed, blowing out a bit of air through puffed cheeks. "That… sounds pretty intense" 

"It was and I never want to do it again!" you let your head flop tiredly onto the table. "At least normally when we go hunting I'm aware there's danger. I genuinely didn't think there was any this time" 

You felt his fingers in your hair, scratching at your scalp. "Sorry love. I had no idea. Explains why you couldn't call though" 

His soft chuckle and attempt at putting even just a bit of humor into the situation made you smile, if even just a little. 

"Mm" you answered. 

"Guess you managed to save the girl, then?" he asked. 

"I guess? I hope so. They were all outside when I left" you explained.

"That's good at least, yeah?" 

"Mm. Just hope they listen" you mused, leaning into his touch as he continued running his hands through your hair. 

"If they're smart, they will. Although from the sounds of it," he stopped but you could hear that coy smile in his voice.

"Yeah, certainly no Einsteins" you chuckled tiredly. Slowly, you lifted your head to look at him, propping it up on your hand. "Sorry I worried you, though. Wasn't my intention" 

He shrugged, now having relaxed with you back in his line of sight. "It's alright. I think we've worried each other enough equally in the time we've been together" 

You smiled. "Yeah, I guess that's fair"

There was a quiet moment between the two of you. You reached for the hand that had been in your hair and held it tenderly within your own. He in turn, wrapped his fingers around yours. You could see the skin around his eyes crinkle from the smile he wore. It was something that made your heart giddy. 

"So," he said after a while. "Want some tea? 'Could probably use it after the day you had" 

"Coffee" you smiled, chuckling lightly. "You know I'm not a tea person" 

"Thought I'd offer just in case" he smiled back at you. "Sit tight, I'll put some on" 

Before he got up you pulled his hand to your lips and kissed the back of it. Your eyes gazed into his so affectionately, like they had done so many times before. He really was everything you could've asked for and more. Your friend and partner. It was a far cry from what you had started out as, but if fate had done one thing right, it was putting him in your life.

"You know I love you, right?" you grinned stupidly. "Like, a lot?" 

You cherished the small flush on his pale cheeks. It wasn't often he got embarrassed or flustered, so you treasured those bashful expressions when they appeared. 

"Love you too" he echoed back, voice softer now. "Very much" he uttered lightly, almost to himself. It was as though the idea was a blissfully new concept but you knew better. You knew that it was more that he was surprised by how much he could love after all he'd been through. Surprised that someone could love him back. 

But you did. And you'd never stop.

"Good" you grinned, slowly letting go of his hand. 

"Now, would you let me get you that coffee?" he commanded in mock annoyance. 

"Yessir" you giggled, making yourself comfortable at the table while he went about his business.

You might not have realized right then what future you had made for yourself but at that time you didn't care. 

That place, that time, was comfortable. 


	2. He Felt like Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a while since you'd seen Tim, even longer since you'd gone on a date with him.  
> So, when he reaches out after having seen you at the Institute, you think it might be time you revisit that.

Over the next few days Gerard made sure you stayed put. 

Between the copious amounts of CO2 inhalation and the worm wounds, he was keen to make sure there weren't any adverse side effects. There was also the worry that you would inexplicably start feeling the urge to stick your hand in wasps nests or praise the almighty mothman. But, thankfully, after a couple of days it was apparent you wouldn't be doing that anytime soon. The both of you then filed that worry away in your cabinet of fucked up entity-related inside jokes.

What you didn't file away, though, was Tim texting you - asking to meet up. 

It had, admittedly, been a bit since you saw him face to face prior to the encounter at the Institute. Gerry had been diagnosed with cancer the year before and you'd spent most of your time caring for him, making sure his stubborn ass kept up with his treatments. You had tried your best to maintain your other relationships, namely with Mike and Tim but they never demanded much of you to begin with. Especially as Mike, who was romantically involved with Gerry as well as yourself, had been at the hospital and your shared flat more than once. Tim had offered to help on more than one occasion, just to bring you groceries or other such things; and you'd taken him up on his offer a few times but for the most part you tried to handle things on your own, as you always did. 

In doing that though, you hadn't been the best about keeping in contact. He understood of course, judging by the texts he'd sent, but you still felt a bit guilty. 

"Might be a good time to rekindle, then" Gerry encouraged, his head resting on your shoulder as the two of you watched some aimless television. 

"That's what I was thinking" you agreed, fingers carding through his already rapidly growing hair. It was a miracle really, how fast it had grown back. It was almost back down to the length he'd had it before he started the treatments. "Guess, I'm just a bit nervous" 

"About what?" he asked. You felt his body shift closer against you. 

"I dunno, everything? Aside from not having seen him, he's an archive assistant now. That doesn't end well normally" you sighed, mind wandering immediately to Michael.

"Well, not every archivist is Gertrude. Hopefully this new guy won't feed his assistants to the dread powers" Gerry snorted indignantly. 

"God, I hope not" you breathed. 

"Look, love" Gerry started, pulling his head off of your shoulder so that he could look in your eyes. "There's only so much you can do. You can't predict the future and you can't save everyone. Tim's a big boy, I'm sure he can handle it" 

"I know, I know" you sighed, having heard this all before. It wasn't like knowing it made you any less anxious. "I know you're right. Guess the most I can do is just be in his life. Make sure he knows I'm there" 

"It's the most any of us can do. How do you think I feel when you go off on jobs alone?" there was a smirk there, but he wore it almost sadly. Like he was trying to be coy but the thought of losing you was almost too much to mask it. 

"Damn. I guess I hadn't thought about it like that" you frowned. "Guess I just always assume I'll be alright" 

"We both do. Otherwise we'd probably go nuts" he chuckled, placing a kiss on your cheek. "So, I'd say, go on your date and try to have fun" 

"Alright, dad" you joked back, tapping his nose. 

"Thought we established I don't have a daddy kink?" he smirked. 

"We did. We also established that you're a very vocal bottom" you shot back with a grin.

" _Power_ bottom" he tried to correct, blush already evident on his cheeks. 

"Sure, sure. If that's how you see it" you giggled, pulling him back to rest on your shoulder. 

So it was, following that conversation, that you made plans to meet up with Timothy Stoker. You'd arranged to meet up at a cafe he said reminded him of you anytime he went. 

_Is that because I used to work at a cafe? V original :P - Bailey_

_Give me a little bit more credit than that! It's because it's cute and comfy, like u ;) - Tim_

_Okay, that's really fucking cute omg - Bailey_

_Told ya - Tim_

When you actually got to the place - sometime after 5pm when he had gotten off of work - you found that you'd had to agree with that descriptor. Cute and comfortable. It was adorned with ornate plants both in the windows and hanging from the ceiling. The walls were a warm red-orange color and the staff was all smiles when you walked in. So was Tim for that matter, who waved you down when he saw you. 

He'd been sitting but swiftly and easily slid out of his chair to embrace you once you got close enough. God, he felt like summer when he put his arms around you. Like a warm, gentle breeze welcoming you to the beach. Just his presence was a comfort enough that you could've passed out there in his embrace. 

"You look stunning, as usual" he grinned as he pulled back enough to look you in the eyes. 

You could feel your cheeks burning but you sent the compliment right back at him. "I could say the same about you" 

"Oh, c'mon. I thought you knew I had a chalice of youth back at my flat" he joked. 

"Must've slipped my mind" you chuckled. "It's certainly working though" 

"Well, thank you. I'm glad all the children's tears I've collected are doing their job" he laughed once more, gently pulling himself from you as he slid back into his seat and you into yours. "How have you been?" 

"Oh, you know" you shrugged. "Hunting with the boy, the usual" 

Tim chuckled at that. "I see. How is he by the way? I know you said he'd-" he tried to find a way to say it gently, but really when a person has cancer, they have cancer. That's how it is. "...gotten sick, last we spoke" 

"He's doing great, actually" you smiled softly, heart warm and happy to be able to say such a thing. "He made a full recovery after his surgery. His hair has gotten long again too, which I know he's happy about. Wasn't too fond of being bald" 

"That's awesome!" Tim beamed at you from across the table, squeezing your hand gently. "I'm so happy for you Bailey, really. And for Gerry, obviously. Can't imagine what the guy has gone through" 

"Would you believe me if I told you cancer wasn't the worst of it?" your tone was bittersweet as you spoke, reflecting on all the things he'd told you; and the things you'd experienced together.

"If it's coming from you I think I'd believe just about anything" 

"Thanks" you laughed softly. "How is…" 

Now it was your turn to figure out how to ask a dreadful question carefully. 

"How's Danny been?" 

His expression dropped, rewriting itself into something that was between pity and guilt. "Alright I suppose, all things considered. Therapy has been helping but it's been a slow climb" 

You frowned, sliding the hand you had on the table into his, which he gratefully accepted. "Can't say I blame him, after what he saw" 

"Yeah" he sighed, then said again. "Yeah" 

"What about you?" you asked, trying politely to change the subject, if only not to upset him anymore. "You work in the archives now?" 

Seemed that wasn't exactly the right topic to change to, judging by the way he kind of deflated in his seat. "Yeah, although I'm not really sure what that entails anymore" 

"Sorry, love" you frowned, squeezing the hand you were still holding. 

"It's alright, it's not your fault" he sighed. "I mean I knew the place was weird, but I just wanted some information to put Danny at ease when I first joined. I wasn't expecting all this" 

You felt guilt well up in your chest. You knew it wasn't your fault, but after what happened to Michael, to all of Gertrude's assistants, you couldn't help but feel worried. 

"Hey" he squeezed your hand back. "I see that look on your face. This isn't your fault. You warned me and I got curious. Now I'm… involved. Whatever that means" 

"It's just" you sighed. "Had I told you more maybe you wouldn't have gone looking? Wanting information is fine and valid but maybe I could've stopped you from going there" 

"I don't think either of us could have foreseen this predicament, Bailey" he snorted. "The Institute doesn't exactly have a warning sign like the opera house did. Don't beat yourself up" 

"Suppose you're right" you leaned back in your seat. "Well, anything you want to know going forward let me know. I don't know everything but I'll tell you what I do" 

"Thank you" he smiled. "Although, honestly I really did just want to see you. I think I just about fainted when I realized you'd showed up to save me yet again. You're like my guardian angel" 

That stupid, cheesy smile he gave you made your heart flip over in your chest. It was… bittersweet. Would he call you an angel if he knew what you were? Knew the truth of your nature? You had no idea and maybe… maybe you were afraid to find out. 

You rolled your eyes, hiding the feelings festering inside you."Oh shush. I'm no angel trust me" 

"You are to me" he said, still smiling. "But maybe I'm just blinded by that heavenly glow" 

"Probably" you smiled back despite yourself. "If you look close enough there's no halo, just devil horns" 

"Ooh, that could make for a fun time in the bedroom though" he winked. 

"Tim!" you flushed, reaching across the table to smack him in the shoulder. He just laughed, taking the attack he knew he deserved. 

"Sorry, sorry" he said, full of mirthful playfulness. "Couldn't resist" 

"Mmhm" you smirked at him in an accusatory fashion. "Sure" 

There was a beat of silence before he opened his mouth again. 

"So, if not to save me again, what did you go to The Institute for?" he asked. "The others tried to explain it, but what I got was that you faked wanting to give a statement because you had a dream of one of us dying?" 

You nodded, recalling the events. "Yeah that's about it. Then I got stuck down there with them" 

"Oh" he looked a bit taken back. "Alright then, that's…" 

He trailed off. Then he asked, 

"Who was it?" 

The cautious worry you felt about revealing it now that everything had happened was evident. Though, you supposed it was always your intention for someone to know. 

"...Sasha" you answered softly.

"God" he breathed, as if his worst fear had been realized. "Did you see how?" 

"Yeah, it, uh... it wasn't nice"

"Was it that hive thing?" 

You shook your head. "No, believe it or not. It was something in Artefact Storage" 

He faltered and silence found you two once again. 

"Explains why she's been avoiding it" he sighed. "How… how did it happen?" 

"You sure you want to know?" 

"Yeah I, I think I should" he breathed. "Someone should know" 

"Right" you took a second. "Well…"

"In the dream I saw her running down a hall in the institute. I couldn't see what it was that was chasing her but I could hear, what I know now, was the song of those worms. I saw the sign for Artefact Storage as she raced inside, shutting the door behind her. Up until this point I hadn't seen the front of her, but the dream granted me a glimpse of her face, of her nametag. She was clutching a tape recorder, speaking to Jon through it. She was talking about how much she hated Artifact Storage, how unsettling it was. Then, in the darkness, something moved. She noticed it but couldn't see it in its full form before it was too late. "I see you" was the last thing she said before it took her. It tried on her voice, tried on a version of her that it liked best. "I see you" it said. It… vaguely felt like it was talking to me when it said that. Even though I know it couldn't have been."

You paused, feeling a shiver running through your body. Both from the recollection and the horrified look on Tim's face. "When I woke up I knew I had to do something" 

"Jesus" he took a second. "Do you have dreams like that all the time?" 

"No" you shook your head. "They're rare and it's not always people dying. It's… sometimes it's hard to discern which ones are real. Which ones are just dreams" 

"Did you have a dream like that before you met Danny and I?" 

"That was just pure luck believe it or not. Glad the universe had my back on something for once" you snorted, earning a cheesy grin from him. 

"I'll drink to that" he said, raising his cup of coffee to his lips in a celebratory fashion. 

As he set his cup back down on the table, that smile of his turned sullen, tinged with a retrospective horror. "For real, though, thank you for coming. I'm not sure what we would've done without you and I… God, I can't imagine losing Sasha" 

"I'm glad I could help. She seems like a gem" you squeezed his hand again. "How is she by the way?" 

"Shaken up like the rest of us but we're pushing through. She's buried herself into trying to figure out what or who this… 'Michael' fellow is" 

That name shot a mix of emotions through your veins, surging into your blood. 

"Michael?" you asked, trepidation in your voice. "As in like, long, blond hair? Really long fingers?" 

The look of surprised recognition that crossed Tim's face was enough to assure you it was the same Michael. "Yeah, that's him! You know him?" 

"Sort of" and that sort of came with a lot of heartbreak. "How does Sasha know him?" 

"He came to her, actually. Showed her another flesh hive inside of a bar. Apparently plucked out a worm when it got in her shoulder" he cringed slightly at the thought. 

"Mm" you thought for a moment. Was Michael trying to be helpful? Or was it just The Distortion trying to stir things up? You knew for a fact Michael Shelley still existed inside of that thing, but how much of him could bleed through, at this point, was still a mystery. "I'd watch my back with him. He's far from harmless and he'll only stay neutral for so long. Oh, and if he offers you a door, don't take it. You might not make it back" 

"Oh, er, alright?" he faltered, trying to pretend he knew what was going on. 

"Sorry. I know that might not make sense but Michael is… complicated. Very complicated" it almost made you sick to think about what had happened to him. How you found out about what had happened to him….

Tim shook his head. "No, it's alright. Just still getting used to all of this weirdness, I suppose. Murder clowns I kind of understood but now there's flesh hives, feeling like I'm always being watched, and this Michael guy. It's a lot " 

"I know how you feel" you sympathized. "God, do I know how you feel. Just know that you're not going nuts, you're still very sane. Your mind will just need time to adjust" 

"Recycling old material?" he teased, clearly remembering that was what you had told to him and Danny when you saw them again. 

"Hey, it's a good reminder!" you chuckled. "Wish someone would've told me I wasn't losing it during my spooky encounters" 

"Well, it might not be when you wanted it, but I think you're pretty sane" Tim replied with a wink. 

"Thanks" you said wryly.

"You're welcome!" 

The two of you shared in soft laughter, enjoying the others presence. It occurred to you that you were still holding his hand, the action coming rather natural for you. He made no move to pull it away and neither did you. It was comfortable like that, the soft bit of bodily contact and the warmth of his hand against yours. It was peaceful. Not unlike other moments you'd had with others but this moment was uniquely special because it was with him. If there was anything you'd learned in your time alive it was that moments like those were so important. 

Anchors were the cornerstone of not losing yourself to the dread powers. That had been one of the reasons you and Gerry had an open relationship to begin with. You knew each other well, almost inside and out, but you couldn't be everything for the other. Sometimes you'd need other people to be those things for you, for him, whether platonic or romantic. That's where Tim came in. Where Mike was. Where Michael had been and would be if you got him back. 

"We should head out, I think the shop is closing up soon" Tim suggested, glancing at the sleek, black watch on his wrist.

"Oh shoot, didn't realize we'd been here that long" 

You looked around, glancing outside to see that the streets had gone dark, lamps illuminating the sidewalks. You sent an apologetic smile to the staff as the two of you got to your feet, soon making your way out of the cafe. 

"Shall I take you home?" Tim offered, hooking his arm for you to take. 

"If you'd like" you replied, happily wrapping yourself around his arm. 

"I would. Very much so" he grinned back, causing the fluster in your heart to kick up again. 

"Well, take me home then Orpheus" 

He chuckled at the nickname. "Will do, Eurydice" 

It was a delightful train ride back to your shared apartment with Gerard, tinged only by the faint disappointment of Tim's refusal to come in - long day at the office tomorrow, he said - but he promised he'd be back soon. He pressed his lips against yours at the door, softly squeezing you between the wall and his chest as he did so. The action alone quite nearly knocked you off your feet. You managed to stay conscious enough to playfully send him on his way afterward. 

"Well… we'll definitely have to do that again sometime" you grinned stupidly, almost breathless. 

"Absolutely" he replied, the same dumb grin on his face as he looked into your eyes. "I missed that way too much" 

"Me too" 

There's a brief moment of pause, of the two of you staring into each other's eyes. Then, begrudgingly, Tim pulls away from you. "I'll see you later, Bailey. Stay safe for me, alright?" 

"You too. And text me when you get home!" 

There's a word of agreement and Timothy Stoker is making his way down the hall, a gleeful kick in his step that makes you giggle just the slightest. You watch him go until he's out of sight and then walk inside to greet your boyfriend who's smiling widely from the couch. 

"Don't you say one word" you warned with a big, stupid smile on your face as you walked over and pressed your lips against his, which he happily returned. 

"Alright then" but the way he raised his eyebrows said enough. 

You rolled your eyes and tackled him over on the couch, making him your personal pillow as you settled down for the night. 

"Guess it went well, then?" he asked, wry tone lacing every word as his fingers started to weave through your hair.

"Mm" you hummed, nuzzling into him. "Missed you though" 

"Missed you too" he chuckled, kissing your forehead. "I'm glad you had a good night" 

"Thank you, darling" 

That night you fell asleep wrapped in a warmth that burned in such rarity. It was a safe, blissful kind of warmth that you thought you'd only ever be capable of dreaming of. But it was there, it was real. And even if a cold, icy wind blew it out like a snuffed candle the very next day, there was no one who could take it from you then. 

It was grounding. 

It was real.


	3. This is How it's Always Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into your powers as "The Mortician" and a visit from a familiar face with a not so familiar attitude.

When you had told a room full of Magnus Institute employees that you were something of a "monster bounty hunter" you weren't exactly lying. Though your intentions didn't lie with The Hunt, nor did you get any joy from hunting, it was probably the most accurate description. Your powers provided you a unique opportunity to help people being stalked or tormented by creatures created by the dread powers. Sure, you couldn't help everyone, but your services were at the public's disposal when needed. 

Which brought you to that moment, where you were standing in a painting room of some well-to-do artist, in the middle of the night. 

He had confided in you that some of his paintings weren't his own and one in particular, that he'd pilfered from a rather strange painter, he believed to be haunted. He felt like the thing was watching him. Like the image of the long, spindly figure made up entirely of spiraling, black brush strokes and two glowing spots meant to be eyes was watching him. One time, he said, he swore he caught the thing having changed positions, turning back and forth. Over the course of the last week he'd noticed it seemed to be getting… closer, as though it was trying to get out of the painting. Yet everyone he showed it to, even his husband, swore to him the painting had always been like that. It had always been weirdly creepy and that if he was so afraid of it he should just burn it or sell it. But he couldn't bring himself to do either. 

Then he called you, having been referred to you by one of your contacts that he'd met. He offered a large sum of money if you could get rid of the thing and while you normally didn't put payments on people's lives, you weren't above taking from the riches of a con artist. 

So, there you were, sitting on a chair staring down the exact painting he had been so afraid of. Had you been a simple person, sure the painting might've been unsettling, but to you who was attuned to the sickly splintered aura it gave off, it was a sign of something much worse. The "face" it wore was indeed very close to the center of the painting, seeming to almost want to creep out of it. It's eyes bored into yours and you wanted to say you saw them blink, but with creatures of the spiral you could never be too sure. 

You huffed, staring at the thing. Either it was trying to make a fool out of the artist who had commissioned you, or it realized who you were. You weren't exactly hard to recognize when face to face. Other creatures you had met had seethed your name with such venom you had to be a fool to think you went completely unknown in this world. 

"Are you gonna drag this out or do you want to just get this over with?" you sighed, the heavy darkness of that room starting to become uncomfortable and draining. 

The thing didn't move but you could swear you saw the flash of glowing teeth, if just for a moment. Like a warning or a reply in place of any actual words. 

"You wanted into this world , now you have the chance and you've got cold feet?" 

There was no reply but it felt like the room shook, like it echoed the frustration of the thing in the painting. Yet still, it did not move. 

Something else followed in its place though. 

It was an airy, weird, little laugh that resounded about the room. It seemed to shift in and out of reality, echoing from a place unreachable and yet tangible all the same. You remembered a time when that laugh used to bring warmth to your life, how the bashful, good-natured man it belonged to used to remind you that there was still gentleness in the world. Now, it just made you feel sick. And the long fingernails that closed around your shoulder, almost as if a spider's legs had claimed it's home there, made you feel even worse. 

"Come now, Mortician. There's no need to be rude" a voice so familiar, yet so distant rang in your ears. "It's only just been born, of course it would be reluctant to meet its end" 

You sighed, venting out the stiffness of fear that had befallen you once you realized who had decided to accompany you.

"Hello, Michael" some part of you still felt compelled to be kind. Some part of you knew Michael Shelley was still in there. "What are you doing here?" 

"I came to watch you work, of course. It is a rather fascinating thing, what you do. Considering that you are not of such a different nature than that of what you wish to erase" the laugh it let out was soft, almost inquisitive. 

"Maybe not. I'm certainly not human anymore, but I don't think I'm exactly like your kind either. Although, I suppose with Michael being part of you now, perhaps we're more alike than I'd care to admit" 

"I suppose" he said, voice tinged in a kind of hardness at the mention of Michael. "But I find that it's also rather pointless trying to draw the distinctions of such things when our end goal is much the same" 

"Don't you sort of have to though?" you wondered, eyes still trained on the painting. "I mean, to twist the truth there has to be a truth to twist. To be not what something is, something has to be, doesn't it?" 

That's when you felt those long, impossibly sharp fingernails curl around your jaw and with a gentleness you hadn't quite expected, the thing turned your head to face him. The face it wore, the body it possessed was always hard to look at, to really accept what had happened. The way Michael Shelley's face had been twisted and warped into this thing you almost didn't recognize. Markings of all kinds of shapes and colors swirled about around his eyes, mouth and down his neck. It was like looking at a TV screen that had lost its broadcast signal. The bright colors are eerie and aggravating and headache inducing. It was… almost nauseating. 

"Such a quick study you are, Mortician. But even you must understand that's not exactly what I'm talking about" they grinned, leering closer to you. "Certainly when it comes to twisting the lives of humans, of deceiving their senses, there must be a guideline for what is normal. But what is normal for avatars? For monsters? Our only real inclination is to stay alive, to feed, in whichever way is appropriate" 

You weren't sure what kind of face you were making but it seemed to be one that The Distortion loved to draw out of you. Whether through its very presence, or reminding you of what you'd become. Were becoming. 

Then reality shifted. You felt something change and you realized with a start that the painting had been left to its own devices without your gaze upon it. You didn't need to look to know that thing hovering over you, the presence you felt all around you meant to harm you. You didn't need to look to see the spindly limbs that threatened to pierce your skin. You closed your eyes and threw out a hand. The words that were scrawled across your arm, words that appeared to be and shouldn't have been more than just a tattoo, a decoration, glowed so fiercely in the dark of that room. 

It wasn't quite a scream that you heard, but it wasn't quiet either. It was like you heard it from another room, another place in time as the being that wished to harm you faded from this world. From all worlds. It's fear fed to the thing that gave the passage of words on your arm meaning and power. 

You felt all at once sick and full and terrified. It was the same every time but the feeling never changed. It was as though you had just eaten something you were deathly allergic to, but were so hungry that it didn't even matter. Thinking on it, perhaps it was less of a metaphor and more so something that aligned closer to the truth. No matter how you detested it. 

In the sudden stillness, the thing that held you in place, held your face in it's grasp, laughed quietly. 

"Marvelous" it chuckled. "A brand new creature, still budding with such potential and you gobbled it up just like that" 

"Is that supposed to make me feel bad for it?" you hissed.

"Only if it does" they grinned, clearly sensing your distress. "Otherwise it's just an observation" 

"Great" you sighed, growing agitated. "Then in that case can I observe you letting go of my face? I have a client to meet"

"Ah yes, the con artist?" they jilted, tilting their head as they held yours in place. "Tell me, does that kind of person deserve saving? Deserve a happy ending, so to speak?" 

"It's not my place to judge" you huffed. "All I know is that if I don't take care of these things before they can grow, then they become a problem. Besides I'm going to the cops about his theft after this anyway" 

"And is that good enough for you?" 

"Why do you care so much about what I do? What I think?" you snapped, rather adverse to being questioned by a thing that probably never stopped to consider it's own nature in the course of its lifetime. 

The grin it wore grew tighter, somehow menacing. "It may come as a surprise to you, but knowing how much humanity is left within you is quite important to myself, and to many others. As you are right now, you're weak. And that bodes well for us" 

You were weak? Well, you supposed that was one way to look at it. The one time you tried to absorb anything with substantial power, it… it didn't go well; and you'd strayed away from banishing bigger creatures since then. 

Even if you ever did acquire the abilities to erase those kinds of creatures you weren't entirely sure you would. Or, more importantly, you weren't certain what having that kind of power passing through you would do to your metaphysical makeup; what you would then have to do to maintain that makeup. It was a thought you didn't like to entertain. 

"So, if I get stronger, that's bad for you then?" you asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

"It could be. It could also mean that I kill you before you can get to that point" he tightened his grip on your jaw, as if to emphasize the very real threat that he was. He looked into your eyes and though looking back into his own was like staring at a bare lightbulb, you could've sworn you saw a flicker of something, of someone that used to be. He looked regretful, sad almost.

"But I won't, not now" his grip lessened. "I'm curious to see what becomes of you" 

"Makes two of us then, I suppose" you answered, voice softer, almost lost to the image you had seen. 

"Don't be so melancholy. It's far too unbecoming on you. Michael Shelley liked you most when you smiled, after all" they teased, rousing a fury of hot blood to course through your veins. A long finger tapped at your cheek tauntingly and if you weren’t so sure it would get you killed, you might’ve been inclined to bite it off. 

There might not have been any blood but as you raised your hand to press your fingers along your jaw, you could feel the indentations where his nails had been poking into your skin. 

You heard the sound of a door creaking open, finding one having appeared right next to the one you were sure had been the way out. Judging by which door Michael decided to open, that observation had been correct. He looked back to you for a moment, menacing smile wide as it had ever been.

"Take care, Mortician" was all he said before he walked through his door, and left you alone in the darkness of that room. 

There was a very real feeling of sudden anxiety that ran through your body as you processed the danger that you had assuredly been in, but had brushed off until that point. Not long ago there were two creatures of the Spiral in the same room and had you not been quick to act, had The Distortion not come to simply observe, you could've faced something worse than just death. Even though Michael was still in there this thing, this other part of him, still was very threatening and dangerous. You needed to be more careful, more guarded. 

Either that or… you needed to find a way to deal with it. Hopefully get Michael back in the process. It wouldn't be easy, or maybe not even possible but… well, that was a thought for another day.

For then, you had money to collect and evidence to turn into the police.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this gets explained in a few more chapters but basically I took the concept of binding monsters to books and turned it into a power that Bailey possesses. The End basically went "you know what lemme snack on some monster fear as an appetizer" turned that thought into a Leitner and Bailey found that Leitner. Again, this will be explained in depth in later chapters but I did just want to clarify in case I didn't make it clear. I also didn't want Bailey/the reader to be too overpowered but to also be an avatar in some sense? Idk it worked out in my head LOL 
> 
> Hope you guys are enjoying so far!


	4. A Wrench in the Framework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You receive a call from Melanie King.  
> She wants your help regarding a ghost she believes lives in a junkyard and well, you never were one to turn down a job.

Receiving a call from Melanie King, the host of Ghost Hunt UK, was far from the weirdest thing to have happened but it certainly wasn't expected. 

_ "Hello? Is this Bailey?" _ the voice on the other end of the phone asked. 

"Yes, this is Bailey. May I ask who's calling?" 

_ "My name is Melanie King. I'm the host of Ghost Hunt UK. I came across your contact information while I was doing some research. You, uh, hunt ghosts too?"  _

"Oh, hello miss King! What an honor. And ah, yes I suppose you could say I'm a ghost hunter? Are you looking for some extra hands?" 

You had offered Gerard a lighthearted smirk when he snorted from the kitchen. You weren't above appearing on a fake ghost show if you could get paid for it. Might've been nice to do some light work for once. 

Though, once she gave you the details of the job, the location specifically, you were suddenly very aware this wasn't going to be a light job. It was in a train graveyard in Rotheram. You'd heard of it, of course you had. Anything you didn't hear on jobs Gerry probably knew, so information was rarely hard to come by. In any case, all reports of the place dealt with a train car that had been there for what seemed like years, never on the line for disassembly. You'd never gone to the place yourself, you never felt the need to, but you could imagine some shifty things were happening within it. 

"Yeah, I've heard of it. Reckon I know what train car you're looking for too. Any particular reason?" 

_ "I just… I need to see it" she answered, a definitive resolve in her voice. "And if you won't come with me I've no problem going alone but everyone I've spoken to says you're reputable. That you know what you're doing"  _

"I mean I do. Was just curious why you'd want to go there, Miss King" 

_ "You can call me Melanie" she cut in. _

"Alright" you complied. "Well Melanie, I can come with you but be warned this isn't exactly, uh, a stable set as it were" 

_ "I know. That's why I want to go"  _

There was a finality to her voice that you had a hard time saying no to. Nor was it easy letting someone walk into what you could be sure might be certain death if she went alone. 

"Alright then. Where should we meet?" 

It wasn't long after that, maybe two days, that Melanie called you back, asking you to meet her that night. It was about a four hour drive, so you left in the early afternoon. 

"Just be careful, alright?" Gerry had asked of you as you knelt down to lace up your boots. "Don't get stabbed, yeah?" 

"That's the plan, love" you chuckled, soon after rising to your feet. "You watch yourself too. Aren't you checking out some potential skinwalker sightings today?" 

He shrugged. "Yeah, but it should be fine. Nothing enclosed, all narrow alleys and side streets" 

"Fair enough" you agreed. You walked over and pressed your lips to his cheek, a smile on your face. "Still be careful though, alright?" 

He returned the kiss, but instead pressed it to your lips. A soft smirk was on his face when he pulled away. "You too. Don't do anything I wouldn't" 

"Well that probably means I won't be all that careful then will I?" you teased, lips curling into a cheeky smile. 

He rolled his eyes at that, still smiling despite himself. "Yeah, yeah. Get out of here, will you?" 

"Already on my way" you chuckled, slinging the small bag you'd left by the door over your shoulder. "I'll see you when I get back" 

You went to reach for the door knob, but stopped abruptly at the utterance of three little words. Ones that made your heart short circuit even after so many years of hearing them. 

"Hey" Gerry called softly, waiting for you to face him. He looked at your inquiring expression - the way your eyebrow popped up, the slight curl of your lips, the gentle shine in your eyes that was just for him - with a certain fondness before he spoke. "Love you" 

He watched in an even further fondness as your mouth split into a grin and you left him with the words "Love you too, darling" before heading out the door. 

The flat was always colder without you in it but he knew you'd be coming back. At least, it was his greatest hope that you would. 

And you would. You always did. 

\--

Some hours later you met Melanie at the train graveyard, finding her in a place just outside the gates where she had texted you she'd be.

"Nice to finally meet you, Melanie" you smiled, holding out your hand in a greeting. She took hold of your hand and shook it, albeit a little awkwardly given the situation, but she was polite enough. 

"Oh, yeah, you too" she said. It wasn't flat or disingenuous, just off, like she had been expecting someone different. "Your colleagues told me a lot about you. I'm hoping we can find something in here" 

"I'm sure we can but" you searched her hands, finding that she only had a torch with her. "I'm noticing you didn't bring any film equipment" 

"Well it's like I said earlier I just..." her eyes searched the ground for an escape from the topic. "I just need to see it for myself. During our last show I saw something and…" 

She trailed off for a moment. It looked like she was grappling with a way to explain her situation. 

"I need to know I'm not crazy" she declared with that same finality you'd heard on the phone. "That what I saw was real" 

The troubled look in her eyes was enough to tug at your sympathetic heart. You'd felt that exact thing many years ago and had since then watched many other people go through it as well. Witnessing any kind of creature of the dread powers, once human or not, behaving in its intended way always left a mark. Whether that be a burning curiosity or a terror that rendered the witness practically dysfunctional depended on the individual. But it wasn't something many could ignore. Melanie seemed to be in the first camp, curious, and hopefully you could keep her from getting killed thanks to her curiosity. 

"Well, in my professional opinion, I think whatever you saw was real" you offered, watching her eyes widen in surprise. 

"You do?" 

"Yeah. You've got that look in your eyes. Like you saw something you shouldn't have" you sympathized, voice soft. "Just hope I can keep you from getting killed" 

She laughed at that, something that was genuinely amused but also slightly bitter. "That would be nice"

"Well, got any ideas on how to get in? I'm assuming you've been observing the place?" 

"Yeah, I've timed the search lights. We've got about a minute to get over the fence" 

You popped up an eyebrow. "Anything else?" 

"I mean, it's kind of hard to see anything else" she explained, crossing her arms across her chest. "And I can't exactly get close enough during the day" 

"Well" you started, slumping your shoulders ever so slightly. "Guess we'll have to watch ourselves then"

You walked over to the fence, curling your fingers around the holes in the links and tested its weight. It seemed solid enough, despite its weathered appearance. The material held together when you shook it, rather than wobbling out of place. You gestured for Melanie to join you. 

When she gave you the mark the two of you climbed over the fence, dropping over to the other side and racing out of the range of the security lights. You took the lead then, proactively pulling a knife from your bag. 

"Don't happen to have another one of those do you?" Melanie asked, voice low as she squatted behind you. "Only thought to bring a torch"

You reached into your bag once again and pulled out the back-up knife you kept and handed it over to her. 

"Niiice" she praised, looking over the thing in the glow reflected from the security lights. "You don't mess around, huh?" 

"Not exactly" she couldn't see your grin but the bemusement in your voice said enough. 

Slowly, the two of you made your way down the line of train cars, searching for one in particular. To say you didn't see the shadows taunting you from the windows of the other cars would be a lie but when Melanie asked you about them, you just told her to keep moving. It wasn't often you were scared, and you weren't really; But being in enclosed spaces without a partner that knew what they were doing was always a bit unnerving. The sooner you could get out of there, the better. 

The further down the line you got, the more you started to notice that a certain pungent smell began to waft through the air. It was the scent of blood that carried on the wind, leading you towards your destination. 

"You smell that, right?" Melanie whispered from behind you. 

"Hard not to" you replied, scrunching up your nose as the smell plunged deep into your nostrils. "Can't imagine it leads to anything nice so keep your eyes peeled"  You felt 

Melanie inched closer to you, keeping on your heels closer than she had before. Maybe it was an unconscious action but you could practically feel her breath on the back of your neck as you snuck along the place. You were sure if you asked her too she would've backed up, probably rather embarrassedly at that, but you tried to just shake it off. Having her close by was probably for the best anyway, you reasoned. Especially as you finally closed in on what you were looking for. 

An almost featureless steel boxcar, with a slightly curved roof, large windowless sliding door, and a few flecks of olive green paint still visible. Honestly, there wasn't anything particularly creepy or intimidating about it. At least until you flicked on your torch and saw the trail of blood pooling out of the small crack where the door met the wall. You heard the woman behind you take in a sharp breath and mutter something behind her hand, but you couldn't quite make it out. Whatever it was though, you were sure you agreed. 

You exhaled a breath as you stepped towards it. You would have no way of knowing it, but your body blocked a series of numbers that were etched into the car, from Melanie's line of vision. It was a code that would have otherwise led her through a whole lot of pain in the future. Blissfully unaware of that little fact, you continued your investigation, reaching for the handle on the door. 

"Not sure what's behind here so keep on your toes" you gestured your knife towards the one you'd given her. 

She in turn gripped the thing tighter in her hand, nodding in affirmation. "Right, got it" 

You pulled your arm back and with it, the door. Shining your torch inside you could see the floor inside was streaked with blood. Most of it had long since dried, crusting to the floor like a cruel layer of paint. But some of it was fresh. Following that trail you found it was dripping from a white body bag on top of a hospital gurney. The thing inside of it twitched and writhed as though in pain but even you were hesitant to climb in and open it. 

The next thing that happened came without warning. Without any fanfare. A man wearing army fatigues charged into the train car from seemingly out of nowhere and started stabbing the body bag over and over with a ferociousness not unknown to you; but certainly quite frightening. The fear that gripped you was only momentary and though you were sure you could do nothing for whatever was in the body bag, you had a feeling you could deal with whatever this "man" was. 

"Fuck" you hissed, hauling yourself up into the car in one motion. However getting your footing once in it took long enough for the man to take notice and turn his attention on you. 

"Watch out!" Melanie gasped, fumbling to turn her own torch on as the man came at you, forcing you to drop the light in your hand to catch his arm as it threatened to plunge a knife into your face. 

Mealnie's light shined over your shoulder and you could see clearly the red that hazed over his eyes. The unmerciful violence that played such an alluring tune to those who had been unlucky enough to witness such atrocities in their life. So much so that the song would drive them to commit such cruel acts of their own. 

You struggled with this creature of the Slaughter for a moment, finding that his determination to drive a knife into you was much stronger than you might've anticipated. At some point you managed to get a better grip on your knife and in one motion plunged it into his heart. And again. And again. And again. Until finally his grip wavered, and even the connection to his god couldn't sustain him any longer. There was no trace of pain in his eyes throughout it all and when he fell back, collapsing to the ground, it almost looked like he was smiling. 

Like this was how it was all supposed to end. 

Your body was shaking ever so slightly as you spared a glance to the body bag that had been attacked earlier. It was still now. And you hadn't the stomach to see what was inside. 

You turned back to Melanie who, understandably, looked horrified. You gulped down a breath and very quietly said to her "We should get out of here." 

She didn't have any resolve to argue. 

The two of you slunk back into the darkness, moving quickly and quietly back the way you came. It took you half the time to see yourselves over the fence and out of the danger of the train yard than it had taken you to come in. The two of you moved a good distance away from that place before either of you felt safe enough to stop, to recognize that the crazy man in the train nor anything else had followed you out of the junkyard. Even though it felt like it did. In the end it was just the adrenaline really, and the fear. 

Well, it was always the fear when it came to things like this wasn't it?

"So…" Melanie started. "That was real. Like, really real. You saw it" 

You knew she was just trying to grapple with this new reality but your face still screwed up at the statement. "Melanie I  _ stabbed  _ it" 

"I know, I know" she said hurriedly, voice trembling. "I just… what the hell did we even see? That man wasn't human!" 

"The best way to describe it would be someone who was possessed. But possessed in a way you can't come back from. He might as well have been a ghost or a monster, really" your voice sounded graver than you meant it to but, really, how did you explain something like this any other way? 

She gripped the side of her head as she harshly let out a breath. "Christ" 

It's quiet for a moment. You stood there and let her try to rationalize her thoughts in any way she could. 

"So what…" she cut herself off, trying to compose herself. "What happens now? I mean the body, the blood?" 

"There probably won't be a body come morning. Might not be anything in there come morning, actually" you explained. 

"I'm not sure that's as reassuring as you make it out to be" 

"Sorry. What I mean is that we won't have to worry about the police or anything. There won't be anything to track and it seems like no one caught us so we're in the clear" 

"Well that's good I guess but… how do you just go back to normal life after this? After seeing something like that?" 

"It's…" you hesitated for a moment. "Well, for me, this is my job. There's a reason my name doesn't come up in a Google search" 

You were sure she could've guessed that but judging by the look on her face, it seemed like hearing it from your own mouth gave it more validity. 

She exhaled once more. "Right, okay" 

"Do you intend to keep looking into this stuff, Melanie?" you asked, even though you were pretty certain you knew the answer. "This line of work it, well it usually doesn't end well" 

"Yeah, I kind of got that impression" she scoffed. "But I don't think I can just go back to looking for grey ladies after what I just saw" 

Yeah, that was the answer you thought she'd give. Well, at least you could give her some backup. Some resources.

"Well, if that's the case" you shucked your bag off of your shoulder, letting it fall to the ground. You pulled out a notebook and tore a page from it before rummaging around for a pen at the bottom of your bag. You scribbled a number and the name  _ Thomas Hall  _ on it. He was a friend of yours from when you were younger. You had both worked at the same cafe in Morden. Like most of the employees from that odd little place he had also become an avatar of sorts but, like you, had retained enough humanity that he found avenues to use his powers to help, even if it was in abstract ways. He tended to look more into apparitions than anything with more physical substance, given his link with The Eye gave him a leg up in that regard. You felt Melanie might make a good fit in his team. It helped that he really liked her show too. 

You handed the freshly scribbled note over to her. "This is a buddy of mine. Very pleasant and will be more than happy to give you a hand. He's not afraid to go looking into the more dangerous stuff"

"I guess that means you won't be helping me in the future?" she sounded almost disappointed.

"Oh no, nothing like that. Definitely call me if you need anything" you assured her. "But I think Tom is a better fit if you're looking to document or seek this stuff out just to see it. I'm more of a… well, I guess a hitman than a researcher" 

She laughed at that, chuckling wryly underneath the street lamp you had stopped under. "I see. Alright, well then I guess I'll have to give him a call" 

"Better that than going alone" 

The sudden urgency in her eyes told you enough in the way of assuring you that she agreed with that sentiment. "Yeah. Yeah, definitely" 

"Good, glad to hear it" you smiled. "So, are you heading back home or?" 

"Y-Yeah, I've got family here. Probably head back there and shower. You?" 

"I've got a ride. A friend of mine is in the area" 

"Oh? Where are you meeting them?" 

You shrugged. "Anywhere. I can get you back to your family's place before I go if you like?" 

"No, that's alright, I appreciate it though" you caught the faint glimmer of a smile on her face. "Although having a friend on the way to the metro might be nice" 

"I can be a friend on the way to the metro" you chuckled. 

"Even with the blood on your shirt?" she asked, pointing to the exact thing she'd mentioned. 

"Ah, right, well" in response you pulled on the jacket you had tied around your waist and zipped it up. "Better?" 

"It'll do" she teased, clearly feeling a bit more lax and secure now that she'd had a moment to decompress. 

The two of you made your way down to the underground, chatting and generally just trying to keep your minds off of what had happened at the junkyard. You stayed with her until her train came and you found yourself glad for it by the time she left. 

You wouldn't know it at the time, but your actions that night had saved Melanie a great deal of heartache, as well as granted her some more time to see the world with her own eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might be wondering "hey S. what was the purpose of this chapter?" and to that I say: I just love Melanie so we're just going to shoo her away from the Institute and India. Her and Georgie still get together on the sidelines just for context if I don't make a follow up chapter. I'm letting the happy lesbians be happy.


	5. Stars for Eyes and the Man Who Looked like Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A retrospective look on how your relationship with a certain avatar of the Vast began.

It was a memory from a long time ago, the one that played in your mind:

You hadn't been trying to feed yourself to The Vast, and you didn't after all, but you'd always had a soft spot for all things in the night sky. So when you came across a strange astronomy book, a Leitner no less, you felt compelled to try it out. 

Underneath the stars, in a park on top of a small hill, you sat looking up at the night sky, drinking in the moon and her constellations. Maybe it was your fixation of the moon and the focus on the artistry of the constellations that kept you from getting lost to the cosmos, but that night you felt like you'd been close enough to drink the Milky Way. You had never felt closer and more alive to anything than in that moment where the moon seemed to glow just for you. Maybe it was that sense of belonging that kept The Vast from being able to claim you. 

You had no idea. 

What you did know, was that _he_ saw the constellations in your eyes, felt the gentle mark of his entity upon you as you sat on that hill, completely transfixed by the blanket of stars above you. You hadn't noticed him, not until he announced himself. 

"It's quite beautiful, isn't it?" 

His voice was soft, gentle almost, but an unknown presence still frightened you enough that you sprung to your feet and whirled around to face the stranger. You had been reaching for the pocket knife in your jacket when your eyes locked with his. The pale blue irises that stared back at you looked all at once very familiar. 

It was those eyes you had seen a dozen times, in a couple odd bookstores. You were two frightened teenagers searching those places for answers, for an escape. Always seeming to cross paths, but never saying more than a few words to each other. There was one occasion you had both distractedly reached for the same book, hands drawn almost instinctively to it and recoiling when fingers touched other fingers. You two had looked at each other then, mumbling sheepish apologies. 

_"Ah, you can have it if you want I'm…" you paused, looking at the book. On the spine of it was printed a small, white figure in the shape of a spider. Retrospectively, that didn't even surprise you. That The Web would be responsible for your first conversation. "I'm not even sure why I was reaching for it, honestly"_

_"No, I'm… I'm fine thank you" he mumbled back, soft voice obstructed ever so slightly by the scarf around his neck, that stretched to cover his mouth as well._

_"Alright, well…" you had smiled at him, not disingenuously, but weakly. "Good luck with whatever it is you're looking for"_

_At that point in your life making conversation with a stranger was hard enough when it was instigated, let alone accidental. Yet something about him made you want to reach out, however softly. You wanted him to know you knew and understood what kind of path he was on. He had that look in his eyes that mirrored yours. It was this urgent kind of terror that hung always in the back of his expression. It was one you saw reflected back at you whenever you dared to look in a mirror._

_"You too" he said, not disingenuously, but softly._

You hadn't seen him since then, about a month or so ago, and now here he was. And he felt… different, like how you felt different. There was no scarf around his neck, but his loose button up shirt instead had two buttons undone, loudly putting his arcing scar on display. There was a kind of confidence about him now. 

"Jesus Christ man" you exhaled, unfurling your fingers from around the knife still in your pocket. "Give me a little warning, I was fit to stab you" 

He chuckled at that, a light, airy little thing. "Sorry about that, was only trying to get your attention" 

You faltered, the rush of adrenaline settling as you realized there was no immediate danger, letting out a long breath of air that danced in the moonlight. "It's alright, just a bit jumpy I guess. What are you doing out here so late?" 

He shrugged. "Enjoying the evening, same as you. Interesting book you got there, though" 

His eyes turned on the Leitner you'd dropped on the ground in your haste to get up. 

"Oh, yeah" you bent down to pick up the thing. "It's an astronomy book. Weird one but it's… really pretty. I've always loved the stars so I thought I'd check it out" 

"Even knowing it's a Leitner?" there was a certain curiosity in his eyes as he asked that.

"Yeah. Maybe even because it's a Leitner" a bittersweet chuckle left your mouth. 

"Trying to lose yourself to the cosmos?" now that was an idea he sounded very keen on hearing about. 

"Not exactly? I know these things are dangerous but this one just seems-" you trailed off, looking at the unassuming, dark blue book. "Welcoming somehow? I dunno. 'Suppose death felt welcoming too at one point, though"

When you looked up at him, you saw that he was smiling. It was a small, thin thing, but it was there. "The Falling Titan can certainly feel welcoming to some" 

"That what happened to you?" you asked. "I noticed you seem kind of different" 

His eyes lit up at that. "Ah, so you remember me then?" 

"Kind of hard not to" you snorted. "You turned up in practically every library I was in, and not too many people stand out like you do. If you'll pardon my saying so" 

He just laughed. "I suppose it's understandable. You were one of the ones decent enough to not gawk at me, though" 

You shrugged. "Not like you asked for that scar. Kind of rude to gawk at someone's trauma. Also, working in customer service you see a lot of shit and learn not to say anything about it" 

The two of you shared in a laugh at that. 

"Although, in all that time we saw each other I never got your name. Mine's Bailey" 

"Name's Mike. Nice to finally meet you, Bailey" 

You grinned at that. "Likewise"

The introduction felt long overdue and yet somehow it felt like you'd met exactly when you were supposed to. When you were just two teens, new to this world of fear but very much a part of it. 

"Well, Mike. This might sound like the beginning of a bad Hallmark Romance Movie but would you like to sit and watch the stars with me?" you asked, rubbing a hand up and down your arm both in sheepishness and for warmth as a chilly breeze rushed by. 

That smile of his never faltered as he gave you his reply. "I'd be delighted" 

It was unorthodox, sure, but weirder things had happened. And as you sat underneath that sky, watching in wide eyed wonder as Mike's fingers danced over the pages of that book, moving constellations that would be reflected in the very sky above you, you weren't sure you cared. What you knew was that you'd found someone like you. You'd found someone who was becoming something they weren't entirely sure they recognized, and you took comfort in that. 

You left each other with your numbers that night, two wayward souls finally intertwined. 

It would lead to something of a romance between the two of you, nothing ever official, but you knew you cared about each other. You knew that the two of you wanted to wake up some days with the other curled up beside them. Perhaps it was the life he'd lived, or the intent of his entity, but quote on quote "trapping" someone in a relationship, tying them to one person, didn't feel necessary. Especially not when he'd visit the cafe you worked at, a few times when Gerry was there, and catch that utter look of love you'd give the young goth. One that he recognized because it had been directed at him as well. 

He hardly felt it fair for either of you to have to be the other's only romantic support. Especially when he was aware that the shortcomings of his own love language couldn't always fulfill yours. He wasn't always the most comfortable with being touched, nor the best with words of affection and for you who was a ball of warmth and hugs, sometimes that left you a bit cold. But you always respected his boundaries, and maybe that was something else that led him to wanting you to be able to have other romantic experiences. 

So some years later when you started dating Gerry, and refused to give him up - which Gerry had expected and met with open arms - Mike knew he had found something special. Even more so when the two ex-Leitner Hunters found that they were romantically compatible in some ways as well. 

Michael may have only been there for a short time, but he'd been welcome too. So was Tim, even though he hadn’t ever officially become your boyfriend- just a “date friend” more so than anything.

In this world where hardly anything worked out or made sense, somehow this branching lightwork of romance did. It worked and it would continue to work for as long as you could make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't ooc for Mike. I really wish we had more time with this funky, little electric man but I love the idea of him being this really charming guy after becoming an avatar. That's the impression I got off of listening to his episode at least five times. Anyway, hope you guys are liking this!


	6. Statement of Hanna Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon finds a statement pertaining to the "monster bounty hunter" he met some odd months ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a statement/podfic y'all, I've always wanted to try my hand at one.This would take place right after episode 75.

**The Archivist** : 

Case 0020811. Statement of Hanna Mark regarding a night at the cinema with her friend. Original statement given November 8th, 2002. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of The Magnus Institute, London. 

Statement begins.

You have to understand, I'm not crazy. I just… I don't have anywhere else to go. I don't know who to talk to. I mean, I know I can talk to Bailey but I don't think even they understand what happened that night. 

I think they've been trying to figure it out? I've seen them with a bunch of books lately. Witchcraft, demons, even some psychology books. I'm not sure if this is something any of that can explain though, so that's why I'm here. Maybe you can help me out? I know I should've told my therapist but… somehow this feels… other wordly. I can't describe the feeling but after what I saw, well, I'm willing to believe almost anything. 

It was three weeks ago. 

Bailey and I had made plans to go see a new horror movie. It was only playing for one night in a theater near my house. Night of a Thousand Eyes, it was called. By the title alone I figured it was going to be one of those horror movies that would either be awful or hysterical, so I thought it might be a fun Friday night with my best friend. 

Bailey seemed to agree, which surprised me actually. They'd never really been one for horror movies, but I think they were so stressed out from everything they had going on that they just wanted to get away from it all. And, as the resident best friend, it was my job to assist with that. 

I remember Bailey had a long shift that Friday because when I came to get them they looked exhausted.  _ Like they'd just crawled out of a grave,  _ I remembered thinking. They'd asked if we could maybe skip the movie, they'd pay me back for the tickets, but I was so stubborn about wanting to take them out that night. I just wanted them to have a good time and...

Well, maybe that's not completely true. If I'm being honest I think I might've been feeling a bit lonely. They were my only friend, practically and ever since they'd started working I only ever really saw them at school. And even then they were the same. Tired. Felt like they were a zombie sometimes. Maybe it was selfish but I just wanted my friend back, even for a night. Even if they were tired. 

It didn't take much to convince them. They'd always been the empathetic sort. Once I told them I missed them, it was like that guilt switch had flipped on in their head. I hadn't been trying to guilt trip them, not really, just a bit of coercion. But now after everything that has happened… I can't help but feel horrible about it all. 

We got to the cinema around 7:30 at night. I remembered thinking, very briefly, that it was darker than it ought to be for that time of year. Of course, whatever unease it stirred up in me was gone the minute we stepped into the theater. The smell of popcorn filled my senses like a wave of nostalgia and I instantly felt that childhood wonder come flooding back to me. I'd always loved going to places like this. Not even just for the movies but for the crowds of people I could get lost in. It was the same at amusement parks or concerts. It felt like I was home in those crowds. It sounds odd now, writing it down on paper, but that's just how I was. How I still am. 

Anyway, I digress. The two of us got our tickets and whatever snacks we hadn't managed to sneak in before we made our way to the viewing room. 

The room seemed somehow smaller than I remembered it being. I don't know if it's because I hadn't been there in a while but it certainly felt more cramped, like it had lost a few rows of chairs. I think Bailey noticed it too because they started looking around and even asked me if we were in the right place. I checked my ticket and matched it to the number on the door and confirmed that, yes, we were in the right room. 

They looked… very unsettled by this, but if they had any objections they didn't voice them. So, the two of us tried to shrug off that weird feeling and soon found our seats. 

The room was packed by the time the movie started and I found myself thankful that we'd chosen seats at the end of the aisle. I liked crowds, being lost in them, but I didn't like being boxed in between people I didn't know. Kind of a weird paradox, I know, but it made sense in my head. 

Regardless, we sat there, waiting for the movie to begin. At some point during the opening commercials I could see Bailey starting to doze off. It wasn’t uncommon for them to sleep through movies but this time I knew it was the stress of the day starting to catch up with them. I tried, in vain, to keep them awake, to at least see a little bit of the movie with me, but they’d passed out on my shoulder by the time the title rolled over the screen. I can’t say I wasn’t a little disappointed, even a bit put out, but it wasn’t like I was going to force them to stay awake. Not to say that I even could, really. 

So, there I sat. Watching this… 

You know what, I… can’t remember what the movie was even about. 

I know it had something to do with some creature stalking a single father but beyond that I have no clue what the rest of the story was. I can vaguely recall the first few scenes and then… nothing. I’m assuming I must’ve taken Bailey’s lead and fallen asleep somewhere, because the next thing I remember was being shaken awake by my friend. It took me a moment to process what was happening. My vision was blurry as I opened my eyes and my head ached like someone had just smashed it into a wall. Even the noise around me, I had noticed with a start, was muffled. Bailey’s voice sounded so far away somehow and it was only once I really focused on it that I could hear it again. 

The first thing I made out was the panic in their voice as they said: Hanna, we need to leave. Now. 

A fear I’d never felt before gripped me at those words and all at once the world around me flooded back into focus, as though someone had just snapped a helmet off of my head. Looking around I could see we were still in the theater but it was… wrong, somehow. It seemed even smaller now, despite being just as packed. Though, the thing that clinched it all for me was the thing on the screen. 

The entire thing was stark white, save for the image of one human eye - unblinking. It  _ hurt  _ to look at that thing, and when I did I felt like my entire soul was being ripped out of me, like my very metaphysical makeup was being stolen the longer I looked. 

And yet I couldn’t look away. 

It took Bailey slapping their hand hard across my face to get my attention back. The world shook and trembled and  _ hurt  _ as I looked back at my friend, taking in the panic in their eyes. 

_ Hanna, we have to leave. There’s something very wrong here, _ they said, and their voice shook in a way I had never heard before. Before I could really get my bearings they were ushering me out of my seat, beckoning me into the aisles that now seemed so impossibly small I wasn’t even sure I could stand in it. Somehow though, the two of us managed to squeeze through rows of chairs, pressed so firmly against the wall I was sure we’d become part of it soon. 

The doors to the cinema were still there but when Bailey raced to open them, they were locked. They whispered something furiously underneath their breath but I couldn’t quite catch what it was as they grabbed on the handle and started to tug and push and beat at the door. At some point they had taken to throwing their whole body against the thing, trying to leverage the door open. And all I could do was stand there, gripped by some kind of terror I wasn’t even sure I could describe. I could feel that eye peering into me, singling me out amongst the crowd of people that I wasn’t even sure we’re alive anymore. 

Bailey started beating at the door and three phrases flashed through my mind: There is nothing else. No one leaves. All must know. 

When I blinked I saw that the once frozen bodies of the other patrons were standing tall in front of their seats. They were all turned towards us, staring at us in a terrifying harmony. Then, all at once they started to move, again in perfect unison. They took careful, measured steps towards us but their limbs flopped around like they no longer had any control of them, like sentient ragdolls.

I could hear Bailey becoming frantic, cursing and throwing their entire weight into the door, desperately pleading for it to open. I wanted to tell them that we needed to figure something else out, that we were going to die trying to get that door open but the words wouldn’t come out. Somehow all of those eyes on me kept me frozen in place, powerless to do anything but watch as they came crawling closer and closer. 

I don’t know when Bailey stopped banging on the door, when they got the idea to do what they did, or how they knew it would work but as I stood there, petrified in my spot, staring at hundreds of glowing eyes, suddenly they were before me. They held a book in their hands, arms outstretched far above their head. They were screaming something. Something about an  _ infernal beast meeting the waiting clutches of the end of all things.  _ I didn’t know what it meant, I still don’t. 

What I do know is that in that moment, the world  _ shook.  _ That entire room trembled like it was alive, and the eye in the center of it all buzzed so erratically that it’s image became distorted inside of the screen. It almost seemed like it was in pain. The patrons who had been crawling closer to us stopped, gripping their heads and all at once they started to scream,as if echoing the pain of the thing inside of the screen. Their cries hit a sickening crescendo and just when I thought my head might burst from the sound of it alone - 

Everything stopped. I vaguely remember the image of that eye being somehow sucked out of that screen, into the book Bailey was holding, but it all happened so fast I’m not sure if my mind made that up to fill in the blanks. 

Because in the next moment, the world shifted. 

The other movie goers, the ones who had surely meant us harm moments ago, seemed to regain their autonomy as the lights in that room, now somehow bigger, flickered on. They groaned, grabbing at their heads, clutching them as they shut their eyes tight in aversion to the light. I remember squinting, feeling the onset of a headache but my mind was elsewhere. I was staring at Bailey, who stared at the book in their hands with this look of shocked horror. Their expression read like someone who had just uncovered an awful secret. 

Then they looked at me, and I knew something about them had changed. I couldn’t tell you what, but something had. 

I don’t remember leaving the theater, or even how I got home. I just know that we did. Time has… kind of felt like a blur honestly. Bailey and I have tried to talk about it but every time we just end up sitting in silence, not sure what to say. 

They’re waiting for that goth boy they’ve got a thing for to come back into the coffee shop. Said that he could explain it better than they could. In the meantime they’ve been researching, trying to figure out what happened, what they did - how they did it. 

I don’t know what to make of it all. Maybe you won’t either. 

All I really know is that I’m… not as fond of crowds as I used to be. 

**The Archivist (cont'd):**

Statement ends. 

Further investigation into this report shows that on the night this incident took place, the clerk at the snack counter reported hearing screaming and banging from within the theater but when he went to look, couldn’t find where it was coming from. When he did finally find Hanna Mark among the other movie goers he said he swore he’d checked the room already, but had found it previously empty. 

The patrons, save for Ms. Mark and her friend, were all rather delirious and some were vocally unresponsive. Most were taken to the hospital and reportedly made full recoveries though we are unable to track all of them down for follow ups. We did try to reach out to Ms. Mark but she wasn’t keen to talk about what happened that night a second time. 

Given the nature of this statement I’d say it’s fair to assume the Bailey mentioned here is none other than Bailey Margo. This marks the third statement I’ve found them mentioned or featured in. I’m assuming the ‘goth boy’ is none other than Gerard Keay, who has appeared alongside Mx Margo in one other statement, wherein the two of them appeared to be on holiday when they met Ms. Nunis in Genoa. 

Margo is… difficult to pin down. They seem to be rather benevolent compared to the likes of Jared Hopworth or Michael Crew, as I’ve yet to cross a statement where they aren’t trying to help someone. Then of course there’s the encounter I had with them some odd months back during the Prentiss attack. 

Is it… possible for avatars to not fall victim to the innately horrid intentions of whatever power it is they choose to serve? Everything I’ve read seems to suggest otherwise but Bailey doesn’t seem to be too concerned with trying to terrorize people. 

(he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose)

Who are you Bailey? 

(he pauses)

Recording Ends. 


	7. Summer Needs a Pick-Me-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's having a rough go of it at the Archives. He turns to you for support.

You still remembered the way to Tim’s flat. Of course you did. 

So when he texted you: _Think you could come over sometime this week?_

Your feet followed a path so etched in the soles of your shoes you barely even needed to look where you were going. 

_Of course. Why, is something up?_ and your heartbeat thrummed in your feet when you got his reply. 

_Wish I could say no. Things at the Institute are getting… weird. I just need to talk to you._

He didn’t need to say anything more: _Oh, shit. Alright. How about tomorrow?_

Tomorrow turned into that moment where you were climbing the steps to his flat, preparing yourself for whatever he might want to tell you. Preparing yourself to have to maybe explain some very difficult things that you weren’t quite sure you had all the answers to. 

When Tim answered the door, that bright smile of his slightly dim, you were sure all that prep had been for good reason. 

“Hey gorgeous” and even though he said it, the tone in his voice didn’t match the words that came out of his mouth. He sounded tired, looked tired. 

“Hey handsome” you returned the greeting almost out of habit, even though your smile reflected something sympathetic rather than flirtatious.

You made the move to wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. Your heart grew heavy as his body practically slumped into yours, like he’d been holding the whole world on his shoulders up until that moment, and in your arms he could finally rest. Some part of you knew it probably wasn’t as dramatic as all that, but you’d never seen Tim quite so drained. And in that thought you just hugged him tighter, giving him one long squeeze before pulling away. 

“Guess things haven’t been all that great?” you smiled sadly at him. 

“Ah, yeah” he uttered, shuffling in his spot. “Kind of what I wanted to talk to you about” 

“Yeah, of course. That’s what I’m here for” you assured him. 

He let out a short breath of air before nodding. “Right, I know. Thank you, by the way. Been going kind of nuts” he laughed weakly. 

“Yeah, no worries” you shook your head lightly. “I told you I’d be here if you needed me” 

“Thank you” he said once again, the gratitude evident in the slight shine of his eyes. “Well, come on in then. Probably better if we talk inside rather than out here where the whole world can hear” 

“Definitely a good plan” you agreed, chuckling softly. 

Tim moved aside to let you in, outstretching his arm in a grandiose way that you still couldn't help but chuckle at. You were thankful that despite whatever might've happened, Tim still found room to be goofy - to be, well, Tim. 

You moved past him and he followed. The two of you wound up at his kitchen table, sitting on opposite sides. You opened up the conversation. 

"So, what's going on, love?" your hand instinctively reached for the one he had on the table and he let you hold it. 

"You know I'm not…" he trailed off. "I'm not entirely sure" 

"Can you start with what you know? What made you want to call me?" you tried to guide him. You were no Archivist but you _did_ know how to help people talk things through. 

"Well, I guess it started with…" he trailed off again. "Actually, it's kind of gruesome. Are you sure you're alright if I talk about it?" 

"Yeah, of course" you replied, a sharp worry now coursing through you. "If it's that bad I think I should know anyway" 

He took a moment, then sighed, then started speaking. "You remember the Prentiss incident two months ago?" 

"Yeah, of course" 

"Well, I'm not sure if you knew this but the Institute was built on top of Millbank Prison and some of it is still intact underneath the building. It's kind of weird, actually, but we figure that's how the worms got in" 

"Somehow I'm not surprised" and you weren't, not really. 

Gerard had once told you that the Institute seemed like the kind of place that would have some kind of dungeon underneath it and after having been in and out of it a few times you were inclined to agree. You just weren't sure why Gertrude hadn't told him about a network of tunnels. Would've been a better place to burn the books at least. 

"Right, well" Tim continued. "Elias hired a cleaning crew and a few exterminators to come in and clean up what was left after the attack. They wound up having to go into the tunnels and…" 

He stopped for a moment and the inside of your chest felt like it was shrinking as anxiety swarmed it. 

His grip on your hand tightened and his voice was grave when he spoke again. "They found someone down there" 

For some reason, you held your breath. 

"It was Gertrude Robinson, she was Jon's predecessor. She was dead. Been shot in the chest" 

You felt the blood inside of your veins run cold, a kind of fear you'd yet to experience washing over you. 

Now, you and Gerard had both figured that when she showed up as "missing" on the local news it was more likely that she was dead. Right before her trip to America Gerard had gotten so sick that he wasn't exactly fit to be "stranger hunting" and you weren't going to an entirely different country with some old woman you frankly didn't like all that much, while he was in hospital. He'd been in remission when she came back but she didn't exactly keep in contact since he was still rather weak. All that was to say that when Gertrude went "missing" it wasn't a surprise, but neither of you were privy to how it happened. 

You certainly wouldn't have ever guessed she'd be shot in some secret tunnel in the Institute that she seemed to have by the balls. 

And maybe that was what scared you so bad. That a woman like that hadn't been skinned, burned or eaten alive. She'd been shot. Killed by a man-made machine under everyone's noses. She'd been down there for what, two years, collecting dust? It was insanity. 

"Well shit" you breathed, eyes wide. "Uhm, can't say I was expecting that" 

"None of us were" Tim chuckled dryly. "And everything's just gotten weirder from there" 

"How so?" you asked, trying to swallow your own shock so as to give him the space he needed to vent. 

"It's just… it's like something's holding us there. Sasha and I have tried to quit but we never can. Martin's thought about it but threw out every resignation letter he thought to hand in" he sounded so lost, angry even. "Jon's so deep in trying to figure out who killed Gertrude that I don't think he's thought about quitting" he snorted. 

"And then there's everything else on top of that. The watched feeling, Michael, it's just… I don't know what's going on. I feel like I'm going insane" 

You were quiet, trying to think of what to say as your fingers ran over his. 

Gertrude had never told you much about the Institute or how it functioned, you just knew it was a magnet for bad esoteric shit and that Elias Bouchard was dangerous. You didn't know how, or why, but he was, and on the few occasions you spoke to him - you could feel it. Avatars had a way of recognizing each other and he was _drenched_ in the essence of the Ceaseless Watcher, more so than Gerry or even Gertrude. But as far as his powers went, you didn't know. You didn't know if he could keep them there or if they'd just become too attached to the Institute. 

"I don't think you're insane, Tim" you said finally, looking into those lost eyes of his. "I can't tell you I know what's going on but whatever it is, it's real. The Magnus Institute is old, powerful and full of secrets… but I don't think it'll hurt you" 

"How can you be so sure? And even if _it_ doesn't there's still other things out there, you know that" he argued. 

"The things out there have a certain degree of fear regarding the Institute" you tried to explain. "I'm sure it doesn't seem like it, what with Prentiss and Gertrude but they do. Actually now that I think about it, you're probably safer there than anywhere else"

"Even with that thing in Artefact Storage?" he asked, gaze weary. 

You let out a breath of air, trying to find the right words. "As long as no one goes in there, yes" 

"And if we do it, what, rewrites us completely? Pulls an Invasion of the Body Snatchers on us?" 

You sighed, suddenly very aware that there was nothing you could really say to fix the situation. Though you couldn't exactly blame Tim for refusing to just quietly accept things as they were either. It was a valid reaction, normal. Any person would be opposed to laying down and accepting things as they were. 

"Yeah, that's… that's the long and short of it" 

"Then you can understand why that _maybe_ doesn't assure me all that much?" his tone was harsher than you'd ever remember hearing it, laced with a biting sarcasm. 

"No, no I know. I get it" you softly defended. "And you have a right to feel that way I just… I don't know what to say. I don't know how to fix it" 

The dejected look in your eyes as you turned your gaze from him caused him to soften. He squeezed the hand you almost forgot he'd been holding. 

"Hey, I'm sorry" he started, the edge in his voice softening. "I didn't mean it like that I just… I guess I've just been stressed from all this" 

You shook your head. "I don't blame you for that. Not at all. In fact I'd probably think something was wrong with you if you _weren't_ stressed" you chuckled weakly. "I just wish there was something I could do. You came to me for help after all" 

"Well, not just for help" he corrected. "Honestly I think I just needed to talk to someone outside of work. Someone who wouldn't think I was going bonkers, you know?" 

"Trust me, I know" you smiled softly, a knowing look in your eyes as you squeezed his hand. "And you're not _bonkers,_ far from it" 

"Kind of wish I was if the reality is that some old, dusty archive has some kind of ownership of my soul" he laughed, but the sound was bitter. 

"Have you tried asking Elias about it?" you knew it was a shot in the dark but truthfully, if anyone would know the truth, it'd be him. Whether or not he'd divulge that information, well, you assumed it was unlikely. 

Judging by the loud, indignant snort Tim let out, you'd say that was a fair assumption. "Useless. He just says not to worry about it and 'lose myself in work', as if that's going to help"

You couldn't help rolling your eyes, the predictable response annoying even to you. "Right, of course. Figures." you took a breath before speaking. “I’ll try to figure something out, Tim. I doubt I can do anything about the Institute on my own, but maybe I can get rid of that table” 

The way Tim’s eyes widened, something in shock and worry was not lost to you. “Woah, woah just because I don’t like the idea of working alongside it doesn’t mean I want you anywhere near it either” 

Touched as you might’ve been by that statement you knew it was probably the only thing you _could_ do in that situation. Furthermore… you weren’t sure how long that thing would stay put. How long it would be before someone wandered too close. Before someone did something stupid. And if someone did something stupid Tim would be in immediate danger. They all would. 

It was a thought that had been plaguing your mind since you’d first realized what exactly that table was, but you hadn’t been able to do anything about it. You still weren’t, not really. You’d thought about binding it, but after your most recent encounter with Michael you weren’t sure you were strong enough to actually pull it off. If you were “weak” as he said, then say you let the thing out and couldn’t kill it? Say you died in the process and left it to run amok all over the building? That would’ve been a disaster. 

But maybe there were other ways you hadn’t considered. Maybe you just had to stop and consider those other options. 

“I appreciate it but I think it might be better for everyone if that thing was gone. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it but give me a few days, I’ll come up with something” 

There was this expression of guilt in Tim’s eyes, as though he felt like he’d coerced you into this. “Are you sure? I mean… I don’t want you to get hurt, you know? I know you’re tough but…” 

“I’ll be alright” you smiled, more so for him than yourself. “I’ve got connections, I’ll figure something out”

He sighed at that, squeezing your hand once again. “If you say so” he paused. “Thanks, Bailey, really” 

“Anything for you, darling” you gave him a cheesy grin, trying to fight off the looming feeling of dread that lingered behind your ribcage. 

He laughed, soft but genuinely. “Well, while I appreciate that, is there anything I can do for you? Feels like you’re always the one helping me” 

“Nah” you shook your head. “Believe it or not you’ve helped me plenty” 

“Oh yeah? With what, my winning smile or charming personality?” he joked. 

“Actually yes!” 

You watched with a kind of giddiness as his expression fell in bashful disbelief. “Okaay, care to elaborate?” he chuckled sheepishly. 

“Well, just having you in my life has been good for me” you shrugged. “You’re bright, funny and one of the first _normal_ people I’ve met who just accepted me as I was. I mean, after I saved you and Danny that night I assumed that would be the last time I would see you. Then we met up by pure happenstance in that coffee shop and you asked me out on a _date_ of all things” you smiled to yourself, recalling the memory. 

“You were cute. I ask cute people out on dates, never steered me wrong before” he winked, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Tim” you leveled. “When we met I was stumbling out of some old ruins, covered in blood with your traumatized brother. Surely that set off some alarm bells?” 

“Well _yeah,_ but then you disappeared off into the night like some secret vigilante and when I talked to Danny about what happened he said you’d bludgeoned some murder clown to save his life. Pretty intriguing if you ask me” he was smirking by the end. 

“So what, you thought of me as like, Batman?” you smirked back, amused. 

“Hmm" he feigned a thoughtful expression, pursing his lips purposefully. "While Batman _is_ pretty sexy I think I’d pin you as more of Spider-Man or maybe even Harley” 

“Thought Harley was a villain?” 

“I mean sure but she’s so lovable, kind of like you” 

You feigned a retching sound out of fluster, earning a “Oh, come on! That was so clever!” from your date-friend. 

“It was and I hate it” you chuckled, shaking your head. 

“You love it” he challenged, amused smirk reclaiming his lips. 

“Nah, pretty sure I hate it” you shot back, challenging him with your own smirk. 

“Well, would you hate some takeaway and a bad movie?" he asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes. "My treat for dragging you through all of… whatever is going on” he shook his head. 

“You know what?” you said, playfully considering the prospects. “I think I’d like that” 

He grinned at that. “Brilliant” 

And that would be how you ended your night, snuggled up on Tim’s rather comfortable couch, watching whatever movie it was he wanted to show you that you hadn’t seen. You noticed, with a soft kind of pride, that he seemed more lively than when you arrived, somehow rejuvenated from your talk. Even though you had no clue what you were going to do about the NotThem, you were glad that at least talking to Tim had given him a bit of peace. 

It was the perfect calm before the storm, you would later realize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this chapter plot related? Yes.  
> Is this chapter also because all I wanted throughout season 2 was to give Tim the biggest hug? Yes.  
> Does this mean we won't get super sour Tim going forward? Bomb diggity.
> 
> Edit: yes, you did slap Nikola in the Covent Garden Theater with a bat but she's alive and thriving. I imagine even a good bludgeoning wouldn't keep her down since she can just sew her skin back up and get a new puppet to maneuver.


	8. The Storm Comes Quick and Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon makes a horrible mistake.  
> You have to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaa I should've put a tw here earlier but: 
> 
> tw: eye gouging (I wouldn't say it's super graphic and it doesn't happen to the reader but be careful!)

After that night, as you had promised, you spent the next few days trying to devise a plan to get rid of the Web Table in its entirety, and thus the Not Them tied to it. You shot off a few of those patchwork plans to Gerry who was able to politely point out the holes or the potential for it to go wrong should you proceed in such a way.

__________

“You think Mike would toss it into The Vast if I asked?” 

“I mean, probably, but then you’d put a target on his head. Sure you want to do that?”  
“Fuck, I didn’t even consider that. That's out” 

___________

“What about like, something with the Buried? If we take it to a graveyard or something where it’s active? You think it’ll keep it trapped?” 

“I mean, sure, but the issue is our window of time. Say the thing decides to get frisky before we get there then it might mean body snatching time for one of us” 

“Damn, that’s true” 

____________

“You think a Leitner would bind it?” 

“Depends on which one. Also means we have to draw it out” 

“Ugggh, why can’t it just kill itself?” 

He laughed at that. “Too easy. There would be nothing for us to do in that case” 

“Right, right” you sighed. “Well, keep an eye out for one of them shitty books anyway, just in case” 

“Will do, darling” 

_____________

The more you poured over these plans, the more you were met with roadblocks, with what ifs. Honestly, it wouldn’t have mattered if it was only you that was at risk but when the ones you loved were factored in, when a whole institute became part of the equation, things got tricky. You couldn’t afford to be careless, couldn’t afford to be reckless. 

You poured over the notebook on the kitchen table, going over the words scribbled on the pages again and again. You’d listed off possibilities for entrapment using almost every entity, excluding the Stranger and the Eye of course, but every single plan you’d come across had some serious implications, dangerous what-ifs. 

Your teeth chewed harshly over the pen in your hand as you scanned over the note you’d made regarding your plan with the Spiral. 

_Ask Michael to open a door to the cemetery? Have a hole pre-dug and just drop it in? Eliminate the in between time in which the beast can emerge?_ But of course there was an asterisk underneath that plan. A very big asterisk. _*Would they even help? Is the conflict between the Spiral and the Stranger that pertinent that they'd be willing to get directly involved?_

Some part of you died reading over that sidenote. 

The being that had first emerged, calling itself Michael, had still been enough Michael Shelley that you had no doubt it would’ve helped you. It still loved you, still had enough human heart inside of it to want to help. Now? Well, you weren’t sure. You supposed it all depended on its own interest, what suited it’s motives, and that was never clear. 

“This is impossible” you groaned to an empty flat, throwing the pen in your hand onto the notebook. “The fuck am I supposed to do?” you threw your hands up as you looked at the book on the table, hoping something would just slap you in the face. Your brain swirled with possibilities and book-ends to meet those possibilities, rendering them useless. You’d been so wrapped up in your own thoughts you hadn’t noticed when something…

Shifted. When a door that wasn’t there before appeared. When that creature you’d been thinking of stalked up behind you.

You only noticed the danger when it’s hand clasped around your shoulder, causing your entire body to freeze up and your blood to run cold. “Well, whatever it is you’re supposed to do, you’d better think of it fast” and that airy, somehow unreal laugh swirled it’s way around your kitchen. 

You don’t know what caused you to react like you did, quite literally jumping out of your chair, knocking their hand off in the process, and racing around to the other side of the table in a manic fear that you weren’t quite used to. Your heart thumped wildly in your chest as you stared at the being on the other side of the table with wide eyes and a snarky remark settling at the back of your throat once you remembered how to speak again. While you tried to do just that they smiled at you, regarding you with the taunting amusement that was their nature. 

“The fuck is wrong with you, Michael?” you snapped, finally catching your breath. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days” 

They just laughed at you, a soft, giggling thing. “Oh my poor, sweet, Bailey. I’m sorry if I startled you” 

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way _that_ voice saying your name made your heart twist up in such an awful way. “We both know that’s a lie” you spat. “What do you want?”

“I only came to warn you my dear” they smiled, bright, toothy grin on display. “You were so enthralled in your plans to get rid of the Not-Them that I thought I might do you the courtesy of letting you know that all of those plans are in the process of being foiled” 

If it delighted in the horror that flashed through your eyes you couldn’t tell. Everything felt far too cold yet your whole body burned in urgency the minute those words left it’s mouth. “What do you mean?” 

“It seems that idiot of an Archivist has decided to destroy the table. He’s convinced himself that destroying it will also destroy the monster it binds” 

Your veins felt like they were on fire and you felt like you were going to be sick. 

“No, no, no, no why would he do that?!” you rushed out urgently, starting to pace around the flat. “What the fuck could he have read to draw him to that conclusion? He’s gonna get himself or someone else killed!” 

“Then I guess you’d better hurry” they grinned something playfully mischievous, seeming to hint at something but you were so overcome with anxiety you didn’t even notice the way they’d gestured to the door they came in through. The one right by your window. 

“I’m never going to get there in time! Oh, Christ Jon you damned idiot!” you started pacing faster, looking around for anything that might give you an answer, frantically picking up things you thought you’d need if you were going down to the Institute to possibly fight this thing. You’d just grabbed a long, sturdy, metal rod you kept around for these such occasions when you heard Michael giggling, his laughter finally angering you enough to the point where you’d turned around to tell him to shut up. 

And when you did you finally noticed the door. And the way he was gesturing to it. 

“Come now, Mortician. Did you think I’d come here just to taunt you?” 

“Yes” you answered flatly, staring at the door. “Or trick me” 

“I can assure you this is not a trick. This door leads to the Artefact Storage, where the Archivist is. He’s just about done bludgeoning that table to bits, you know” 

“Why should I trust you?” your eyes narrowed at them, at the delighted grin on their face. “Why would you help me?” 

“You don’t have to trust me, I can’t force you. But it’s up to you whether or not you want to gamble someone’s life on _what-ifs,_ after all” 

Something about that last bit did it for you. If Jon really had decided to get reckless and stupid on account of what he’d deemed the right course of action, then you had a lot more to lose than maybe getting stuck in The Distortion for a few hours if he hadn’t. 

“Fine. But you trap me in your little hallways and I’m kicking your ass” you warned half heartedly as you rounded the couch on your way to this new door in your flat. 

“I suppose we’ll have to save that promise for another time, Mortician” they giggled; and as you pulled open the door, seeing the vague memory of the artefact storage in your dreams on the other side, as well as a heavily breathing Jon hunched over the shattered pieces of the web table, you were inclined to agree. 

No sooner had you sprinted through the threshold did that thing appear from the rubble of the table, towering over Jon who let out a shriek of terror. 

"N-No, no! Y-You're supposed to be dead this isn't-" 

You let out a yell, cutting him off as you took a wide swing at the thing, knocking it towards the back of the room and away from Jon. The man of which stared at you with wide eyes, the terror mixing into confusion and quite possibly a hint of relief. 

"B-Bailey? What, what are you doing here? H-How, _how_ did you get in?" he fumbled.

You looked back at him for a brief moment, your eyes bathed in dangerous warning. "Fixing your fuck up" you spat, before once again engaging with the thing that was rising up from the ground, growling lowly as it did. 

It was ready for you this time, a long, thin arm shooting out to grab hold of your pipe as you swung it again. It's face was almost a man's, although stretched out and wrong. It's jaw unhinged like a snake's as it quite pointedly laughed at you, sending the hairs on your arm straight up. 

"Did you think this pathetic little thing would do anything against me?" it snarled, snapping the thing in half and tossing it to some darkened corner of the room. 

You had no time to react as the thing threw out another hand, wrapping it around your neck and shoving you up against the wall. You felt your feet leave the ground as the monster pushed you up along the wall until your feet were dangling in the air. You clutched at that long bony arm as it's fingers closed around your throat, your legs swinging wildly in the air as you tried, to no avail, to kick it away from you.

"Such a weak, pathetic thing you are, Mortician. You know I _might_ have actually considered you a threat had you been able to throw away that humanity you crave so much to keep. Look at all it's gotten you?" the thing laughed cruelly, holding your gaze in its own, terrifying and twisted. "You're going to _die_ here, in this dark, horrible place and those you love won't even know you're gone. They won't even notice until it's far too late" 

Everything inside of you felt like it was screaming. The thought of this thing spending one moment with the people you cherished, wearing your face as it waited for the perfect moment to destroy them, to betray the trust they had in you for it's sick amusement, infuriated you. You wouldn't let that happen, _couldn't_ let that happen. 

So, you made a choice. 

"Or" you choked out, shoving your arm out to grab the thing's face. "Maybe _you_ were too late to notice" with all the strength you could muster, you plunged your fingers into the thing's eyes, digging into cartilage and watching as blood began to pour from the sockets. 

It screamed, partly in pain, mostly in rage. 

And the inky, black words etched onto your skin glowed brightly in that darkened room. 

Your voice sounded something so unlike you when it came out; cold and distant but the words you spoke were clear. 

"This is the end for you" 

There was another scream, intermingling with the one that had lowered to pained growls, and all at once pitching again to a hair raising thing that reached the cusp of being almost unbearable.

Then it stopped altogether and you fell to the floor with a thud, the arms suspending you no longer a thing of your reality. 

You landed on your feet but immediately collapsed to the ground. You felt something like bile rising up in the back of your throat but when you spat it out, you realized it was blood. Try as you might you couldn't catch your breath and everything inside of you felt like it was being twisted around, like your entire body was being remade to accommodate the thing you had just consumed. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and you found yourself clutching your shirt, begging for any kind purchase in this whirlwind of shifting pain.

"Bailey…?" it was Jon's voice that rang out in the awful quiet of that room, terrified and soft. "Bailey, are you alright?" 

"I…" you could make out the sounds of his shoes carefully treading a path towards you. "I don't know…" 

Then came the laugh that had led you there and with it was the feeling of long, pointed fingers closing around your shoulder. The fingers clutched around your shirt tightened around the fabric and your already haggard breathing quickened. For the first time in a long time, a fear regarding the end of your own life made its home in your head. You expected to feel those fingers plunge right through your chest. Embraced yourself for the feeling. 

But nothing happened. 

"Oh my sweet Mortician, you've done so well" Michael's voice sounded almost tender. Maybe it was just because you were delirious, because your mind swirled and throbbed with such pain that you sought any comfort at all, even if you had to make it up yourself. 

You didn't know what this pain was, you were scared and lost and…

Tired. So tired. 

And it was within that thought that the world started to darken, your mind going numb. The last thing you felt was your body hit the cold tile floor before everything went black. 

\----

Jon was left in that dark place, watching as you slumped over, unresponsive. The thing he'd come to know as The Distortion, as Michael leered over you. There was panic, and questions and anger all bottled up inside of his chest. But he wore the terror he felt on his sleeve, every part of him still trembling and shaking. 

"What-What did you do to them?" he asked, trying and failing to put even just a sliver of authority back in his voice. 

"Oh, relax Archivist I haven't done anything" Michael sighed, still wearing that brilliant smirk. "They're not used to engaging with things of more substantial power. They'll need time to adjust" 

"What does that even mean-what are they?" he asked, desperate to piece together the things he had just witnessed. 

"They are an avatar, much the same as you and I are, Archivist" 

Jon balled up his fists in frustration."I don't know what that means!" 

"Then ask _them_ " Michael's voice was sharper now. "They'll awaken eventually, you can ask them your questions then" the impossibly tall creature got to their feet, walking slowly towards a corner of the room. 

"In the meantime, watch over them, won't you? They're quite special indeed" they let out a soft giggle as they looked from Jon, back to your unconscious form on the ground. 

Jon watched as their gaze lingered on you for, but a moment before making their way through a door that Jon knew, for certain, hadn't been there before. 

Then, everything was quiet. 

In that sudden, deafening quiet, Jon took a moment to just breathe. 

He was alive. He was still breathing, somehow. Well, there was no _somehow_ about it now was there? Had you not come when you did he would've been dead, stretched and replaced by that thing. At this very moment someone claiming to be Jonathan Sims would be walking about the Institute, parading as the Archivist. His team would have no idea, unless any of them happened to be that _one_ person that creature always seemed to miss. Otherwise, they'd be blissfully ignorant of their somehow even more dangerous situation. 

And it would've been his fault. It would've been his fault because he thought he knew better. He thought his rash actions were the only route forward. 

For all that he prided himself on his intelligence, he was starting to see what a fool he actually was. 

He walked closer to you, observing your unconscious form. A pang of guilt hit him as he saw the faintly pained expression in your features. He didn't know you from Adam sure, but this had been the second time you showed up to save him. And sure, he could argue with himself that he never asked for your help, never asked you to stick your neck out for him. But, contrary to popular belief, Jonathan Sims was not a heartless man and reasoning with himself in such a way did nothing to ease the guilt that slithered underneath his skin. 

Now the question was, what was he going to do with you? He, regrettably, was not a very strong man, he doubted he could carry you anywhere. Maybe he could get someone to help? But then he'd have to explain what he was doing in the storeroom with an unconscious person and he doubted that would pan over well.

In the midst of his worried pondering he heard something from beyond the room, just outside the hall. Someone was calling for him. 

The door to the room opened carefully, the image of his assistants coming more into focus as they were revealed to him. Martin had been the one to open the door, Tim and Sasha close behind him. 

"Jon, are you alright in here?" Martin asked uneasily. "I know you told us to go home but we were worried and, w-well, we thought we heard a scream. Are you alright?" 

"I'm, uh, I don't-" he tried to explain, words lost on his tongue. It was almost a blessing when the light shined in from the hallway, illuminating your knocked out figure on the floor. Jon watched Tim's eyes scan you over once in disbelief, and then a second time, widening in shock. 

"Oh my God, Bailey!" he raced into the room, pushing past Jon to kneel down beside you on the ground. "What the hell happened?" Tim demanded, seeing the blood both on the floor and trickling from your mouth. "What did you do to them?!" 

"I didn't-! I didn't do anything, I swear!" Jon defended, voice still strained and weak. "M-Michael led them here, I-I think. They killed that thing, the one that steals people's identities. I don't know how but they did" 

"W-Wait is this… that's-that's the same Bailey who saved us from Prentiss?" Martin stuttered, wide eyes finally adjusting to the dark. 

"The same one who told us not to come in here or we'd die?" Sasha added, a bit of a sharpness to her voice as she regarded Jon with hardened skepticism. "Jon, what in the world were you thinking?" 

"I was _thinking_ that I could kill the thing that was threatening us" he clapped back. "I thought that if I destroyed the table, I would destroy _it_ " 

"But that's not what happened, is it? Jon, you could've gotten yourself killed, you very nearly got Bailey killed by the looks of it. Why didn't you tell us?" Sasha doubled down, brows furrowing as she scolded her boss. 

"I didn't think all of this would happen! How was I supposed to know?" Jon rebutted, throwing his hands up in the air. 

"We can deal with all that later, we need to get Bailey out of here" Tim cut in. When Jon turned to face him, he was holding you in his arms, your head laying against his chest. 

"Yeah, they definitely don't need to be in here any longer" Sasha agreed, looking around at the room and lightly shrinking into herself. "Although I'm assuming a trip to the hospital won't exactly help" 

"No" Jon replied. "Michael said they'd wake up in a while. They just need to rest" 

"So we're just going to trust Michael?" Tim scoffed, eyeing Jon with a hardened expression. 

Jon sighed, knowing Tim had a point but also knowing that he hadn't seen what Jon had seen. Given the supernatural circumstances, it was very unlikely that anything involving modern medicine could help you until you woke up. 

"For now, I think we have to" 

There was a pause, a noise of disagreement but begrudgingly, Tim decided to relent. "Fine, but I'm not leaving until they're awake" 

"I understand" Jon agreed. "I think they'll be safest in my office. We can watch over them until then" 

The walk to his office was nothing short of agony. His assistants loaded him with angry questions. He understood why of course, but the "how could you be such an idiot?" and the "did you ever stop to think about what could've happened?" lobbed at him by Sasha and Tim bit at the shame he already felt prickling away at his pride. 

"I know, I know" he sighed, beaten down by their words. He knew he deserved it. 

"Jon, you have to start talking to us" Sasha declared as Tim went to place you gingerly on the sofa in Jon's office. "You're not the only one that's in this. We _all_ are and you _have_ to start trusting us" 

"She's right, Jon. We only want to help, we all just want to get through this" Martin piped in. 

"And _not_ lose anyone" Tim added pointedly. "That includes you, even if you are a pompous idiot" 

As the quiet settled in around his office, the watchful gaze of his assistants boring into him, he could only nod, solemnly aware of how much he'd been fucking up since the reveal of Gertrude's death. 

He took a breath. "Okay" 

Sasha sighed, and then nodded. "Okay" 

She looked back at your figure on the couch, frowning at the same pained features Jon had recognized. "Let us know when they wake up, alright?" 

"I will" he promised. 

"Do you want to stay with them, Tim?" Sasha asked, watching as the man looked over you. 

"I do, but they probably need the space" he sighed. "Doubt they want everyone seeing them like this" 

You didn't, surely not, but as you were you couldn't voice that. 

"Actually, I should probably try to call their boyfriend. I think I have his number somewhere" he thought aloud, rooting in his pocket for his phone. 

"Good call" Sasha affirmed. "Don't know how long they'll be out and he might want to take them home"

"That's what I was thinking, yeah" he sighed, carding his fingers through his hair. "Keep us posted alright, boss?" 

It was the first time in quite a few weeks Tim hadn't looked with him with blatant distaste. Rather he looked… normal. Worried and concerned of course, but that was to be expected. 

Somehow, Jon had a feeling deep inside of him that this was a second chance to fix things with his team. Maybe start making some real strides to getting some answers. 

He _wasn't_ going to waste it. 


	9. The Mortician's Pages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up to find yourself in Jon's office. You finally tell him the truth of who you are and how you came to be The Mortician.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mention of past suicidal thoughts

Every part of your body ached as you found your way back into consciousness; the feeling only exacerbated by the stiff couch you found yourself on. The only real consolation you'd been given was the fact that wherever you were, the lights were dim. You'd half expected to wake up in the hospital, so not having the glaring lights of such a place, bouncing off of pristine, white walls and into your eyeballs was a small comfort. If not only because you didn't feel like explaining - or lying - to the nurses and doctors about what happened to you. 

You groaned as you rolled onto your side, your back cracking painfully with every movement. 

You heard a voice as you stirred, one you recognized. 

“You awake, Bailey?” 

It sounded like Jon. 

“Jon? Is… is that you?” you asked, still blinking away the bits of blurry vision aligned within your sight. “Where the hell am I?”

“Yes, it’s me. You’re in my office” he replied, voice clearer now. 

“How the fuck did I get here?” you slurred, slowly sitting yourself up. 

“Tim carried you here. He, well... he and the others found us after you passed out” he explained. 

You turned to look at him then, finding him sat at his desk. There was what you assumed to be a statement on top of it, and his recorder lie next to it, at the corner of the desk. “How long have I been out?” 

“A few hours” he said, pushing the statement off to the side. “We thought it might be best to look after you while you… recovered” the word seemed a bit off when he said it, like he wasn’t sure that was the best term for what you had been doing, and yet was the most suitable he could think of. 

“Right” you nodded. “Well, thanks for keeping an eye on me then, I guess”

“Ah, right, of course” 

There was a moment that passed between the two of you before Jon spoke up again. 

“Bailey what… what exactly did you do to that monster? It just…vanished. And I’ve seen you and your… _powers…_ mentioned in other statements as well” 

Somehow you knew this question would come eventually. He was the Archivist after all. 

“Mm” you hummed. “How much d'you know about Leitners, Jon?”

The man in question raised an eyebrow at you. “Er, a fair bit I’d say. Why?” 

“You know how some of them can bind creatures? Like trap them inside of them?” you asked.

“Yes, I’ve read a few instances where that seemed to be the case” 

“Those are my powers in a nutshell. I bind those creatures to The End. They die and I get to stay alive” you shrugged.

“I…” he looked a bit lost. “Okay well, uh, what, what is this Moritican business? I’ve heard you called by that name on more than one occasion at this point”

“Well, you know how you’re the Archivist?” 

“ _Vaguely_ ” he seemed to almost hiss at that. 

“It’s kind of the same thing for me, I’m the Mortician” 

“Yes, but what does that _mean?”_ he asked, sounding almost desperate. 

You shrugged, not really knowing the full answer to that yourself. You’d pieced a few things together, managed to make some sense of the role you’d been given, but for the most part you still didn’t completely understand it. You hadn't ever really figured out why your patron wanted the life forces of monsters created by other powers. You had a working theory that it was because their energy wasn't something The End would eventually consume. The energy of those creatures would likely return to the powers that made them, and any fear they may have felt as they died as well. You weren't sure how powerful the fear of non-human avatars was, but it seemed to sustain you enough. 

"Not sure, really. I think, in my case, it's just a name - a description of my powers. Kind of like how the NotThem is what it is based on what it does. Though, I don't think the NotThem was ever human, which is why I could bind them" 

"So your powers are circumstantial then? They only work on creatures born from these… powers or whatever they are?" 

"Mm" you hummed, thoughtfully. "Mostly. Although I imagine if I lost my humanity, I could start binding humans as well. I think… I think that's the end goal for a lot of Morticians. From what I've read most of them would get to the point where they'd take a human or two, then get really guilty about it, and just die" 

"There's others like you?" 

You shook your head. "No. We only exist one at a time. Whoever has the book is the Mortician" 

"What book? A Leitner? I've never seen you with it in person" Jon asked. 

"Yeah. It's aptly named The Mortician's Pages" you answered with a wry smile. "And you never see me with it because I… well I kind of _am_ it" 

Jon looked at you, dumbfounded expression clear on his face. "You're a... a book?" 

"That's the long and short of it, yeah" you sighed, getting up from your spot on the couch and walking over to the chair opposite his desk. "It might actually be better if I just explain from the beginning" 

"Oh, right, of course" he agreed, not without a hint of surprise, as he peered over to check that his tape recorder was still running. 

Then he began: "Statement of Bailey Margo, regarding their emergence as The Mortician. Recorded direct from subject, March 16th, 2017. Statement begins." 

You took a breath, then started speaking: 

"I've always had a strange relationship with death. I had a pretty rough childhood and an even tougher time as a teenager, so the idea of my life ending, of all the pain just coming to a stop was one I entertained quite often. I'd walk this tightrope, this fine line, of knowing there were people who needed me alive, who depended on me, and wanting it all to be over. 

I suppose it's really no surprise Death caught sight of me when I dipped my toes into the thought of it so many times. It had marked me deeply, and it went beyond the inevitable end it has all of us stamped for. 

I read a lot when I was younger, so when I found The Mortician's Pages in a thrift shop, dripping with the essence of death, I can't say I wasn't intrigued. Beyond that the book itself was actually quite fascinating all on it's own. On each page there was an entry about a monster, or a creature. It would detail a brief description of what that being looked like, what it did, and what it felt like to bind them - to "prepare them for death" as it were. Each entry was always signed "The Mortician" though the style of signature seemed to change every fifteen or twenty pages - usually after an entry or two would be given about what was clearly meant to be a human. In fact the last entry, coming right before a final, blank page, was about the previous Mortician's husband who they had believed to be possessed. Whether or not they were is a mystery I don't think I want to figure out, judging by what the previous Mortician thought and felt about binding their own husband. 

It was… haunting. But for some reason I kept that book with me long after I'd finished it. 

Gerry, one of my current partners, had been a regular at the cafe I was working in since his mom's shop was right across the road. He's practically a walking encyclopedia for the esoteric and supernatural so when he saw me re-reading the thing, he told me to be careful. Let him know if anything happened with it. 

At first I'd been confused, unsure of what he meant, but he'd always been a little strange. I know exactly what was going on now, but at the time I just chalked it up to the fact his mom was apparently some kind of witch, and that maybe he'd learned something about the book from her. Maybe it was cursed? Either way, I agreed to let him know if anything happened. 

And then… something did. 

I'd been at the cinema with a friend. She'd wanted to see some new horror movie that had just come out and I was so knackered that I'd fallen asleep before it even started. When I woke up the entire movie theater had changed, and in the middle of that impossibly huge screen was an eye, staring back at me. The rest of the patrons were paralyzed, their now glowing eyes transfixed on the screen. Even my friend had joined them. 

It took the better part of five minutes to shake her from her stupor before I could get her to try to leave with me, but when we raced up to the doors they were locked. I gave all of myself to trying to force those doors open. I banged, screamed, hell I even started using myself as a battering ram at one point. But nothing would work.

When those paralyzed patrons suddenly moved, all of them getting to a standing at once, and slowly moving toward us - I knew I had to do something. 

For some reason, my first thought was to grab that book. I'd taken to carrying it around with me almost everywhere, and that night was no exception. I'm not sure if that was for the best or for the worst, but when that gigantic eye got sucked into the book, I hardly cared. My body shook, trembling as the patrons regained themselves, the room itself shifting back into our reality. 

When I looked at the book again, that very last page had been filled in with my thoughts, my agonizing fear and discomfort as that eyeball creature passed through me, through the book. At the bottom of the entry was the style of my signature, only instead of my name it read the same thing all the other entries did: The Mortician. 

Gerry had been away at the time, out on a trip with his mother, but I still remembered a few of the libraries and book shops he'd told me he visited. I went to almost all of them, looking for anything that might explain what in the world it was that I had seen, what I had experienced. I spent a month and a half trying to figure out what had happened and by the end of that time, I noticed one morning that the book had disappeared.

In its place were words, inky black, tattooed across my arm. It was a perfect copy of my first entry in the book, only this time there was no signature to accompany it. 

That day Gerry came back into the cafe, and when I showed him my arm at the end of my shift, he laid everything out for me. It was… terrifying to say the least. To know that I had unwittingly become part of some greater, cosmic horror all because I was trying to save myself and my friend, because of my attachment to a _book,_ of all things. 

But there was nothing to be done, that path was already set.

Since then I've been The Mortician. With my new powers I started noticing more and more creatures that linger just out of sight, waiting to prey on the unsuspecting. I've saved a lot of people but… there's always that fear that one of them might be an entry one day. 

I just hope I'm dead before that day ever comes."

"And that's really it, I guess" you shrugged, unsure of what else to say. 

Jon looked completely withered by the time you'd finished talking, as though something in your tale had ripped the life right out of him. "I… I see…" 

"You alright there, Jon?" you asked, the soft concern you felt for the man evident in your voice. "You look like you're about to vomit" 

"Y-Yes…" he stuttered, heaving a breath as he composed himself. "Yes, I'm fine. Just been a long few hours, I suppose." 

You chuckled dryly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, trust me,I get it" 

He returned your chuckle, looking at you with a somewhat morbid acknowledgement. "I'm sure" 

In the quiet that followed the two of you, a knock came at the door of Jon's office. He sighed and called quietly for the person on the other side of the door to come in. 

The door opened to reveal Tim on the other side as well as another person you genuinely hadn't been expecting to see. Of course when you saw the look of concern painted on both of their faces, you could guess what had happened. 

"Good morning, sleeping beauty" Tim greeted you with a smile. "You gave us all kind of a scare there. Wasn't sure how long you'd be out so I figured I'd give him a call" the man gestured to Gerry who stood in the doorway next to him.

You smiled softly at the two of them. "That was nice of you, thanks love" you said, smiling back at Tim before turning your attention to Gerry. "Hope I didn't cut your workday too short" you chuckled weakly. 

He snorted softly at that, shaking his head. "Hardly my first thought when he called, especially when he said you were unconscious" 

You knew it wasn't your fault, but you'd felt rather guilty worrying him like that. Tim as well. "Sorry if I worried you both…"

"Don't be. It's not your fault" Gerry answered, sliding past Tim to join you at your side. 

He looked you over for cuts or any sign of injury, concern and worry evident behind his inquisitive gaze. "You alright?" 

"I think so?" you mumbled. "Still groggy, I haven't been awake for very long" 

"Can you walk?" 

"Yeah, pretty sure my legs still work" you joked half heartedly. 

"D'you want to head home?" he asked, voice soft and patient. 

"In a bit" you answered. "I think I should check in with Sasha and Martin before we leave. Jon said they were with Tim when they found us" 

"I think they'd appreciate that" Tim added, still stood in the doorway. "Martin's been asking after you almost every half hour"

"Aw, that's sweet of him" you giggled, finding the gesture rather endearing considering you were still a perfect stranger to the man. "I'll definitely have to see them on my way out, then" 

You turned to face Jon, who looked like he had a thousand more questions to ask, like he didn't want to let you go just then, but knew he didn't have a choice if he didn't want to look like an asshole. 

"So, Jon" you started, reaching for a post it note and a pen at the side of his desk. "I'm sure you still have a lot of questions so-" you scribbled your cell number on the piece of paper and slid it towards him. "Call me if you need anything. Especially if you're going to do something stupid" 

You winked at him as he pulled a face, clearly not fond of being reminded of his blunder. Of course, after having to experience the pain of absorbing a demon of identity theft on his behalf, you were pretty sure a bit of teasing was owed. 

"Thank you, Bailey. Really." his voice was soft but his tone was genuine, remorseful in a way. 

It was apparent to you that he'd really had time to think about what happened while you'd been knocked out, and you found yourself thankful for that. Hopefully, with a little help, Jon could become an Archivist with less of a garbage morale compass than Gertrude had. Or, at the very least, he wouldn't actively try to get innocent people killed. 

Your mind wandered to Michael at thought. It always did. A somber, sobering thought that made your heart shrivel up and turn to ash. 

"Don't mention it" you shrugged, slowly getting to your feet. "See ya around"

Jon uttered back a similar farewell, watching as you walked out of the office with Tim and Gerry at your side, disappearing behind the door.

"You realize he's never going to leave you alone now, right?" Tim snickered after having closed the door. 

You shrugged once more, an amused smile dancing over your lips. "Ah well, better than having to repeat this scenario again" 

"I'll say" Gerry agreed softly, close by your side. 

"You've got a point there" Tim chimed in, chuckling softly. "Would much rather keep you upright and alive" 

"I dunno about upright. Could really go for a nap right about now" you joked, a yawn bubbling up out of your mouth as your partners joined in a laugh. 

"Won't keep you long then, darling" Tim smiled, reaching for your hand and sliding his fingers between yours. "Just a quick check in and you'll be on your way" 

"Sounds good" you smiled back. 

As Tim began to lead the way you reached for Gerry's hand, lacing your fingers with his as you flashed him a small grin. He in turn let you lead him along, a faint smirk on his lips. 

Together, the three of you weaved through the space of the archives. On your way you'd noticed the scorch marks both on the floor and the desks, that had been left over from your visit a year prior, were mysteriously nonexistent. Though, logically, you supposed the furniture and tile could've just been replaced, rather than any mystical reason. After all Tim had mentioned that a cleanup crew had been through the place. 

"Here we are" Tim announced, gently letting go of your hand. "Last stop, the archival assistant research area" he gestured to the collection of desks and computers, wherein which Sasha and Martin were sitting. 

The two of them regarded you with a look of surprise when they saw you, gazes lifting from their computer screens. 

"Oh, Bailey! You're awake!" Martin noted, turning in his swivel chair to face you. "How are you feeling?" 

"Tired" you answered with a soft snort. "Tim tells me you were asking after me?" 

"O-Oh yeah" he stuttered. "You looked pretty beat up when we found you. And I mean, after all, this is like, what the second time you've saved us from a monster?" 

You shrugged. "Comes with the territory. I wouldn't worry about it too much. Thank you for concerning yourself though, that was very sweet" 

"W-Well it, it seemed to be the least I could do" he fidgeted in his seat. 

"Well, I appreciate it" you affirmed again, smiling at the man who returned one of his own, albeit a touch sheepish. 

"Sorry you got dragged into our mess again" Sasha called from her desk, situated across from Martin's. "From what we squeezed out of Jon, it seems like this time could've gone quite badly had you not shown up" 

"Well…" you tried to soften your words, to maybe downplay the severity of it, but the knowing look Sasha poured into your eyes rendered the effort futile. "Yeah, no, it was pretty bad, actually" 

"We figured" she said. "Being erased and replaced sounds like a proper bad time" 

You wondered if she knew, if Tim had told her about your dream. You had no way to gauge it based on her words alone but you found it ironic, in the best way possible, that she was alive to say something like that. You found yourself glad for it. 

"I can't say I have any first hand experience but no, I'd imagine it's not very fun" you said, letting out an awkward chuckle. 

"Oh" you remarked as a thought dawned on you, the other hand you were still holding onto reminding you. "This is Gerry, by the way" you introduced, gesturing to your other partner. 

"We're kind of a package deal so if you see me again, you'll likely see him too" you giggled, smiling tenderly towards the goth man at your side. 

"Sounds about right" he snickered, squeezing your hand ever so softly. 

Martin's eyes swiveled from Gerry, back to Tim, and based on the look on his face you had a feeling there were a few things he was trying to piece together. "Oh, right, well nice to meet you, Gerry. I'm Martin" he said, politely as always. 

"You're the boyfriend then? Tim said you'd be coming along" Sasha grinned from her desk, eyeing Tim with a mischievous glint in her eyes, to which Tim pulled what you'd describe as a 'please-don't-make-this-awkward' face. "I'm Sasha by the way, pleasure to meet you" 

"Likewise" Gerry answered. "And yes, I am the boyfriend" he clarified, the bit of pride you detected in his voice making your heart melt. 

"And yes" you chimed in. "Before this gets weird, they know about each other, they've met before, it's all consensual" you stated, waving a finger between the two. 

It looked like a lightbulb had gone off in Martin's head. "Oh! Okay then! That makes sense" 

You couldn't help but giggle at how much happier he sounded. Though you supposed finding out your co-worker _wasn't_ assisting in an affair was always a nice reassurance. Especially amidst all this supernatural monster business. 

"Anyway" Tim interjected, clearly feeling a bit slimy about having his co-workers - or at least Martin - sizing him up as a lecher. "Our brave hero here was feeling a bit tired, so I'll be seeing them off if that's all" 

"Yeah, of course" Martin agreed. "Thank you again, Bailey. I'm not sure how we can repay you but if you think of anything, let us know" 

"I don't know if it's worth our lives being saved but you and Gerry should come for drinks with us sometime" Sasha suggested. "On us, of course" 

You couldn't help the smile that spread over your face. "That sounds lovely, actually. We'll let you guys know" 

Sasha smiled back at you. "Excellent. Be seeing you, then?"

"Oh, I'm sure you will" you chuckled. "Take care of yourselves in the meantime" 

The two of them left you with their farewells and well wishes before Tim walked you and Gerry out of the Institute. The both of you knew your way quite well, but far be it from you to dismiss your partner before you absolutely had to. 

"Well, that was fun" you giggled, once you were finally outside. 

"Sorry about that" Tim smiled awkwardly. "I wasn't expecting all of that" 

"It's fine" you shrugged. "I've got nothing to hide. I love all of my boys" you grinned at him, lightly tugging Gerry closer to you as well. 

The genuine, adoring smile that fawned over Tim's lips at your words made you feel so, very warm. "Well, this boy certainly loves you too" 

"Can the two of you get a room?" Gerry joked with a laugh, sending the three of you into a fit of chuckles. 

"I suppose I should let you go though" Tim conceded, still smiling. "I'm sure you could do with some rest that isn't monster induced" 

"Perhaps" you giggled. "Might be nice" 

"Well, don't let me keep you then" he said, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek. "I'll talk to you soon, okay?" 

You grinned, that light and warm feeling only intensifying."You better" 

"I will" he promised, before turning his attention to Gerard. "Good seeing you again, Gerry" 

"Yep, you too" the man responded in kind, waving him off as he walked back into the institute. When the two of you were alone he turned his attention on you. "Well, someone's certainly popular" 

"Oh shush" you shot back playfully. "I'm just glad everyone's safe. Thanks for coming to get me, sweetheart" 

"Of course" he said. "Wasn't going to leave you here of all places" 

"Mm" you nodded, grimacing ever so. "Very much appreciated" 

"Don't worry about it" he said. "Let's get you home. We can talk about everything later" 

Another yawn floated out of your mouth, and you nodded once more. "Good idea. I really need a proper nap" 

"Certainly looks it" Gerry chuckled, tugging you gently by the hand as he started walking. 

The two of you set off down the street after that, hand in hand, as you made your way home. 

You weren't sure what absorbing that creature had done to you aside from the earlier pain you had experienced but in that moment you hadn't the will to worry about it. 

Whatever it was, _if_ ever it was, you'd deal with it when it came. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks we're almost done, kind of, setting up and addressing canon stuff so it makes sense before I fucking swerve. Hope y'all are ready.


	10. Anchors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been having a week of awful nightmares since your encounter with the NotThem. It's terrifying and you can feel yourself changing, evolving. 
> 
> In an effort to find peace of mind you reach out for guidance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: nightmares, minor hallucinations, feeling sick, feeling unsure of the future, feeling like you're changing (in an avatar sense, becoming less human)

Your first night home after the incident was - to put it plainly - awful.

You settled into bed with Gerry, like you always did, the two of you comfortably wrapped around each other, snuggled under a warm weighted blanket. You slipped off into that unconscious abyss at first feeling warm, safe even. Your mind had been a peaceful, blank slate.

Then it wasn't.

That blank landscape filled red. Gruesome, terrifying images flashed in your mind. Horrified faces contorted in your subconscious and blood curdling screams circled in your eardrums, loud and shrieking. Within that mess of horror you could feel underneath your skin a hot, burning pain was starting to bubble up. It traveled your entire body, seeming to want to explode out of your every pore. The blistering heat traveled up your throat, wrapping around it, choking you. Just as you thought you might suffocate, as the screams reached a crescendo and the faces contorted into images only barely human-

You woke up.

You woke up, careening into an upright position in bed, your face in your hands as tears and sweat dripped down your skin. The world was mute for a moment, all except for your own heavy breathing. The sound consumed your senses for what felt like forever. You weren't sure when reality phased back in, when you realized Gerry was sitting right beside you, trying to calm you down.

"What happened?" he asked, when you let your hands fall away from your face.

You just shook your head. You had no idea. You just knew that you felt terrified. Like for a moment your skin wasn't your own. "I don't know… just… nightmares…"

"Must've been pretty bad, then" he spoke softly, fingers smoothing down your hair. "You practically threw me off of you"

There was a humorous lilt in his voice, but you still felt horrible.

"I'm sorry, Gerry I… I really don't know what happened. I just started seeing… some really fucked up shit and I got so hot I felt like the heat was trying to climb out of my skin" you babbled, staring down at the sheets in the dark.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. You're here now. You're awake and you're here with me" he wrapped an arm across your shoulders, gently pulling you into him, trying to ground you.

You raised your hands to grasp gently at the arm resting on your chest and buried your face into it. "Right… you're right… thank you..."

Gerry tried to coarse you back to bed, and even if in the end all you did was watch him sleep, you felt a bit better by the time the morning came. Despite your exhaustion.

But the next night didn't come easy either.

This time, instead of waking up in a hot flash, you woke up slow and languid, feeling nauseous and sluggish. There was a strange, powerful feeling that coursed through your veins, one that made you feel sick just from the intensity of it. You sat at the edge of your bed for the longer part of the night, willing yourself not to be ill all over the carpet, or to make too much noise that would disturb your sleeping partner.

By the time you felt well enough to lay down again, it was almost sunrise.

The nights continued like that for almost a week before you were able to actually get through a solid few hours of sleep again.

The nightmares hadn't stopped but they'd become considerably less severe. The bodily afflictions had also begun to ebb away, the feelings seeming to have settled. Though you weren't exactly ecstatic about what that meant as far as your status as an avatar, it was nice to spend a sunrise waking up in Gerry's arms again. Rather than breathing like a ragged dog at the side of the bed.

"You still look a bit tired" Gerry noted as he got ready for work, gathering the few things he took to the bookshop with him every day.

"Still feel it" you yawned, leaning back against the couch.

"Get some more rest then. You could probably use it" he gently advised.

"Mm, probably will" you agreed, mind still hazy from a week without proper sleep.

"And you'll call me if you need anything, right?" he asked, an accusatory look in his eyes.

"Yes, my love" you chuckled tiredly. "I will"

"Good" he smiled. Grabbing his keys off of the kitchen table, he made his way over to you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before gently ruffling up your hair, that proverbial half smirk appearing on his face at the sound of your protest.

"Alright, get out of here you silly boy" you laughed, gently swatting at his arm.

"On my way" he said, still smirking as he headed for the door.

"Gerry" you called, just as he placed his hand on the knob. He turned, looking to you with a soft, almost expectant shine in his eyes.

"Yes?"

"I love you" you grinned, watching that soft shine in his eyes illuminate. "Have a good day at work, okay?"

"Sure" he smiled. "Love you too, by the way"

Your heart grew about twenty sizes bigger whenever you heard those words. "Good"

He left you with one last smile and a wave before he headed out the door, leaving you alone in your shared apartment.

It was always a little colder without him around.

Without him it was just the noise of the television in the background and the clunking footsteps of your upstairs neighbor - also getting ready for work - to keep you company. Though, as another yawn slipped out of your mouth, your eyelids growing heavy, you decided it was just as well. The idea of going back to sleep for a little while was all at once very alluring, especially considering how badly you'd been sleeping the past week.

With a huff you let your body sprawl onto the couch, twisting around until you found a position that felt comfortable. You closed your eyes, letting the world fall away as you tried to catch up on the nights of sleep denied to you. The ones replaced with a feverish sickness and night terrors. You hoped, as your mind started to drift, that those nightmares would stay their visit from you for the afternoon. They'd been tame as of last night, so you hoped that either continued or you returned to a dreamless, forgotten slumber.

But you couldn't be that lucky could you?

There was no way to judge how long it took for your once dreamless sleep to be interrupted by horrible visions and auditory terrors - but to you it felt immediate. The sickening crack of bones snapping and shifting filled your ears. The bone chilling terror of petrified faces made clear in your subconscious. The only real thing this new batch of dreams served to prove was a hunch you'd had. It came towards the end, when the face of someone you'd never known stared back at you, daring to look angry.

"You're not my brother" they said, eyebrows knitted in defiance. "I don't know how you've got everyone fooled but I know the truth"

A voice that belonged to the perspective of the thing you were occupying spoke: "Then I think you know too much"

That person, like all the others, disappeared after that - leaving behind nothing more than a shriek and the image of a frozen scream.

That was when you woke, bolting into an upright position. Your breathing was ragged and it felt as though your lungs were being squeezed by a giant hand, invisible fingers crushing them behind your chest. You buried your face in your hands, taking deep, labored breaths to try to combat the feeling, trying desperately to get some oxygen back.

If it wasn't obvious then, it was obvious now. The images you'd been seeing in your dreams weren't just faces, they were people - real people. They were all victims of the NotThem, stolen, distorted and worn as a sick joke to the creature that had taken them. It made you feel ill just thinking about it but to see it right before your eyes was an entirely different story. To be in the perspective of the monster, to feel the life sucked out of those poor people, to know in some awful way you were connected to such a thing… it made your skin crawl.

You weren't sure when you'd started crying, but your hands were wet when you pulled them away from your face. You let out a shaky breath as you wiped the tears that stained your cheeks on your shirt.

You knew going back to sleep wasn't an option, not for that afternoon, and you certainly didn't think staying home alone with this guilt was any better. With that thought in mind you pulled your weary body off of the couch and started getting yourself together enough to go out into the world.

You knew where you wanted to be.

\--

It wasn't more than an hour later that you were standing at the base of The Leadenhall Building, staring up at the top of the skyscraper. It didn't matter how many times you'd sat at the top of it, you still marveled at how the building stretched up into the sky. You imagined how it felt to slide down it's incline, careening down that sloping building, only to be met with more sky before you gently hit the ground, a hand circling into yours as you did.

Much like how a hand intertwined into yours at that very moment, snapping your attention from the building. Your eyes met a familiar pair of pale, blue ones that twinkled mischievously back at you. Your momentary panic subsided, replaced by a warmth that filled your chest.

"Getting lost without me?" asked the owner of those sparkling irises. His tone was playful and the light and airy politeness he portrayed was a welcome sound to your ears.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Mikey" you chuckled. "Besides I can't get to the top without you"

"Suppose that's true" he smiled evenly. "Well, shall we then?"

"Whenever you're ready" you agreed, squeezing his hand as a show of affirmation.

The world fell away in almost an instant. The city around you blinked out of reality, only to be replaced with a vast, empty sky, stretching out far beyond the edges of your eyesight. The wind rushed past you as your feet dangled over the nothingness beneath them. You didn't feel so much like you were falling, more like you were hovering over the Earth. Of course, had Mike not been with you that experience would've been drastically different, and you had to wonder if you would've been afraid if that were the case. Would you still look at the inside of this place with such wonder if you were plummeting towards forever without a hand to bring you back out? Or would you find it peaceful if you just closed your eyes and simply fell for an eternity?

As quick as the thought entered your brain, did it again disappear as reality blinked back into existence. You were still staring out at the sky, almost eye level with the clouds, but there was structure underneath your feet once more. That familiar feeling of vertigo settled over you as the rush of nerves and amazement settled like sugar to the bottom of a full glass.

"Easy there" Mike chuckled as you swayed ever so slightly, steadying you with a firm grip. "Wouldn't want you falling off"

You laughed as you found your footing, hand still wrapped around his as you closed your eyes to stop the buzzing in your head, then slowly opening them again to properly focus on the world around you. "If I did, you'd catch me, wouldn't you?"

"Of course" he answered evenly, the look in his eyes evident that he meant it.

You smiled at that. "Good"

You made your way to sit down on top of the new structure you'd found yourself on. London was a long way down you noted as you bent your knees and carefully slid your legs out underneath you until you were safely situated. Mike followed your lead, though with a far more impressive amount of grace and confidence than you had. His limbs didn't stutter like yours did but you supposed, being a man of The Vast, balance was something innate when you dealt with height and the scale of things.

"It's always so pretty up here" you breathed, looking out at the shapes the clouds were forming in the sky.

"Certainly is" Mike agreed.

You didn't notice the way Mike considered you from his peripheral, noting the way your eyes looked deeper set than they ever had. The way you felt… just a bit more like _him_ then you ever had.

"I assume you didn't want to come up here just for the view though, yeah?"

You didn't look at him, just kept staring out at the clouds as your mind meandered over how best to begin explaining its thoughts. "Not exactly"

"Want to talk about it?"

"I do it's just…" you paused. "Complicated"

You heard him shift next to you. "In what way?"

It took you a minute to gather your thoughts.

"About a week ago I was in kind of a tough spot" you started. "I'm not sure how it got there or what it was doing there but someone put the Web Table in Artifact Storage at The Magnus Institute" you explained, noticing the way his posture sharpened at the mention of the table binding the NotThem. "I'd been kind of worried about Tim and his colleagues so I'd been trying to devise ways to get it out of there. I'd had a few ideas but… someone let the monster out"

You sighed, looking away from the clouds and down at your hands. "I was able to get there in time but… well, at that point there was only one way to get rid of it."

"I see," he said, sympathy edging in around the corners of his voice. "I'm guessing it hasn't felt like the others then?"

You scoffed, shaking your head."No, not at all. It's been the most horrible week of my life. I keep seeing it's victims whenever I close my eyes. I see their faces, I hear their screams. It's… awful."

Mike looked at you, watching the way you crumpled in on yourself at the memories. He understood now why you'd felt so different, so much more like an avatar. Your powers were growing, shifting.

And you were afraid.

"Can't imagine that's been easy." Mike's voice was soft as he scooted closer to you. The hand that had once been intertwined with yours laced through your fingertips once more, his own curling around yours.

"It's just… I guess I'm worried"

"Worried you'll become a monster too?"

The words cut deeper than you thought they might've. Having the truth spoken out into the air like that, and from someone else's lips, felt like a punch to the gut. But that was it, wasn't it? You were afraid of losing your humanity, of losing the bits and parts of yourself that loved and hoped. You were afraid you'd hurt someone innocent, that you'd have to hurt someone to stay alive. Would you be able to? You had no idea. The idea seemed inconceivable but… then your mind would flash to those old entries in The Mortician's Pages, the last few that belonged to every Mortician. The last few in which they catalogued their experience of taking the souls of humans.

And you felt afraid.

"Yeah," your voice came out weaker than you'd expected it to but it wasn't like you cared to pretend you weren't vulnerable right now. "I know maybe I'm overreacting, it could just be the lack of sleep but… I just… I don't want to hurt anyone."

It wasn't lost on you how ironic it was that Mike was the one you had chosen to admit this to.

You knew Mike wasn't evil, at least you could never see him that way. His entry into life as an avatar was hardly what you'd call simple. He was young and scared, a teenager trying to protect himself from some otherworldly thing that meant him harm. It was in that vein that you'd tried to reason with yourself that his own method of sustaining his patron was only to keep himself alive, to feed the beast as it were. But traumatizing and potentially killing innocent people had never sat right with you, and while he knew that, it wasn't like it changed the reality of things.

The two of you had come to a compromise early in your relationship that if he could sustain himself just on frightening people now and then, you could work with that. You didn't want to lose him (and if you had to be honest with yourself, he wouldn’t give up his new life for a relationship) and you didn't want to let him go either so the two of you tried to make it work. Overall, it had been working just fine, and it seemed like having you and Gerry around helped curb his urges, the two of you acting as his anchors.

So... what were you doing? Were you trying to get him to tell you that you were allowed to do the thing you so hated if it meant staying alive? Was that what you wanted from him? Or was it just more simply that you just wanted to talk to him because he knew what this was like?

"I don't think you would." Mike mused, and you turned your head to look at him, curious. "You've always been different as far as avatars go. Far more human than any I've met. And you've got anchors to keep you grounded. I think you'll be alright"

"Yeah?" you asked, a bit taken back.

"Of course," there was a small, reassuring smile on his face. "And after all, having you and Gerry around has certainly helped me. I don't see why it wouldn't help you having us."

"Huh…" the sound comes out as an extension of the thoughts forming in your mind. "I hadn't even really considered that"

"Hardly a surprise considering the nightmares you've been having."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Yeah, you're not kidding."

He chuckled softly at that, thumb gently rolling over your fingers. "Well, I'm sure those will subside eventually too."

"Here's hoping" you breathed, feeling like the weight on your chest had elevated slightly. The fear of changing was one you'd held since you'd gotten these powers, but at least for now you could put it aside, reminded that you had people willing to help you. "Thanks Mikey. Guess I just needed to be reminded that I'm not all on my own."

"Anytime" he answered, that soft smile of his reappearing yet again. "Though I'm surprised it's me you came to for a pep talk"

"Why's that?" you asked, throwing up an eyebrow.

"I think we both know I'm not the best with advice or… feelings" he admitted, chuckling a bit awkwardly.

"You've always been good with me" you shrugged. "But… I don't think I was really looking for advice, honestly" you spoke softly, now running your thumb over his fingers. "Just someone who knows what this feels like. Gerry knows to some extent but he's not as tangled up as we are"

"That's certainly true," he agreed. "And if that's the case then I'm glad you came to me"

You smiled back at Mike, the love you felt for him bubbling up inside of your chest. "Me too," you mumbled lovingly as you leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. You made it a point that your lips brushed over his branching scar, an action of which did not go unnoticed by him, judging by the faint twinkle in his eyes.

There were quite a few more kisses exchanged before the two of you left that tower.

\--

When it became apparent you'd be with Mike for most, if not the rest of the day, you'd texted Gerry to let him know.

Now, it was well into the evening and you'd found yourself on Mike's bed, flat on your back, with both men curled into you, snoozing away. Gerry had made himself at home underneath your chest, his head resting there as his arm stretched out over your body, his hand curling into Mike's, of whom had nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

Despite the atmosphere, far too cozy and inviting for its own good, the clutches of slumber were something you fought to keep away from. Even as secure as you were - or maybe perhaps because of it - you still feared the nightmares that may have been waiting for you, not so subtle reminders of what you could become. You didn't want to break this newly found peace, something you'd been aching for all week. But -- and the thought crossed your mind as you struggled to keep your eyes open -- was this really peace if you were still running from something? Had you found the end of the storm or were you simply in the eye of it? You wouldn't know unless you dared to close your own.

It took some time but between the drowsiness already filling your head and the security of your lover's embrace, did you finally manage to fall asleep - Mike's soft voice whispering in your dreams: "You've always been different as far as avatars go. Far more human than any I've met. And you've got anchors to keep you grounded. I think you'll be alright."

And that night you slept soundly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hear me out: I'm still trying to get a handle on Mike's character. I know 100% that in canon he probably wouldn't let anyone limit him from being his full, authentic, avatar self, but I'm playing around with a softer Mike. A Mike who maybe had someone to lean on when he first became an avatar, who has anchors. But I totally understand if you don't like my depiction of him! 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to everyone that's commented and left kudos! You guys really keep me motivated to finish this story so thank you!


	11. Maybe Eventually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerry and Mike wake up before you do. They mull about in the living room, having a conversation while you indulge in some much needed extended rest.

“Sounds like you two have been having a time of it recently.”

It was late morning when Mike posed such a statement to Gerry, who was sat on the couch still rubbing the sleep from his eyes while his partner boiled water in preparation for the tea he’d be having in the next ten minutes or so.

“Bailey more so than me.” Gerry responded, trying to stifle a yawn. “Between that hive thing, the NotThem and Tim being an assistant archivist, they’ve been kind of going through it.”

“Is that what he’s doing now?” Mike asked, nonchalantly. “I remember them mentioning he’d started working there but I didn’t know he’d been transferred to the archives.”

“I’m pretty sure it was recent. After Gertrude died and all. Probably not much longer than a year or two at most.” He shrugged.

“Mm.” Mike hummed curiously. “Makes sense, I suppose. I’m assuming they’re not exactly ecstatic at the prospect?”

Gerry snorted loudly in response. “After what happened with Michael? No. But the new archivist is…” He stopped, trying to gather his thoughts on what he’d made of Jon for the little while that he’d seen him. “Well, he certainly doesn’t seem as cold as her. A bit reckless, though, all things considered.”

Mike chuckled in a way that seemed familiar, as though he could relate to that sentiment. “Bit too curious for his own good, would you say?”

Gerry propped up an eyebrow at his partner. “You say that like you know the guy.”

“Not intimately.” Mike shrugged. “But he did come around here a few days ago. Wanted to know about my scar and the statements I’d apparently featured in.”

“Bloody hell. Really?”

“Mm. Was quite a nag about it.”

“Surprised you didn’t toss him out the window.” Gerry chuckled.

“I certainly considered it but…” Something between a smirk and a smile formed on Mike’s lips. “Well, I’ve made a promise, haven’t I?”

Gerry smiled back at the man, a sense of pride mulling about in his chest. “Bailey would be happy to hear that, I’m sure.”

“I’d hope so.” Mike laughed, pulling the tea kettle off of the stove and turning to pour the boiling water into his mug. “They’re the reason I do it, after all.”

Gerry smirked at him then, regarding him a bit playfully. “And what am I? Roadkill?”

Mike scoffed lightly, gently rolling his eyes. “Of course not, love. But you’re hardly as concerned about what I do in my free time as they are.”

“Suppose I can’t argue there. But for the record it is nice to know you’re not killing people. I know avatarhood isn’t exactly all cut and dry, but I’m proud of you for the effort.”

“Well, thank you.” Mike said, the smirk that curled into the tail end of his smile falling away and leaving only a genuine curl of his lips in its place. “It’s nice to hear from time to time. It’s not exactly efficient sustaining myself on the bare minimum but it is…”

His voice grew soft, introspective almost. “Worth it, I suppose.”

Gerry cracked a wide grin, perhaps a bit too excited to see this rare, softer side of Mike shine through. “Mr. Crew, are you being sentimental?”

“Absolutely not.” Mike answered definitively, though his smile gave him away rather easily.

“Mmm, very convincing.” Gerry laughed, watching as Mike rolled his eyes.

Just as Mike might have been about to retort the creak of his bedroom door slowly opening had both of them turning their heads to meet the sound. From behind the door you appeared, dressed in Gerry’s oversized, black sweater that he’d bought specifically for you to steal from him - not that he would ever admit it - rubbing sleep from your eyes.

It was probably the most adorable thing they’d ever seen.

"Morning sleeping beauty." Gerry called with a humorous lilt in his voice.

“Hey, you two." You yawned, covering your mouth with your free hand. "What’s all the fuss about?”

“We were just talking, darling.” Mike answered, still wearing that smile on his face. Though Gerry did take note of how much more affectionate it had grown since you stepped out. “Did we wake you?”

“Not really.” You said, shaking your head. ”You could have woken me up though. I was a little confused when both of you were gone.” You chuckled a bit awkwardly, clearly having felt a little lonely when you woke up on your own.

“Apologies.” Mike chuckled gently. “We thought you could use the rest since you were finally sleeping.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.” You smiled. “Well, thanks for letting me sleep in, then.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Mike nodded. “Now that you’re up though, would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh, sure. If you don’t mind. Your tea is the only one I like anyway.” You grinned.

Gerry noticed the faintest glimmer of pride flash through Mike’s sky blue eyes. “Happy to hear it.”

Gerry's eyes followed you as you made your way over to the couch, quietly delighting in the way you snuggled up to him, pressing your body against his with a content hum.

"Hey you." You mumbled, reaching for his hand to lace your fingers with his.

"Hey you." He repeated, curling his fingers around yours as he leaned over to press a kiss to the top of your head. "How did you sleep?"

"Much better. Guess you two were the medicine I needed." You beamed, tilting your head to look up at him.

Gerry looked down at you, smiling back at that sweet expression that melted his heart.

"That so?" He asked in a teasing tone, a fond look in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you in closer, letting his warmth seep into your body.

"Mm-hmm." You hummed, sinking into his embrace. "Absolutely."

The only time you moved is when Mike came over, reaching out to take the mug of tea he gingerly handed off to you.

"Be careful, it might still be hot." He advised.

"Thanks, Mikey." You smiled, blowing softly into the cup before taking a sip, the liquid rippling about on the surface. "Delicious as usual." You praised, when you removed the mug from your lips. You set it down on the table in front of you, before reaching your now free hand to tangle in Mike's, your other still intertwined with Gerry's.

"Glad you think so." Mike smiled back at you, fingers weaving into your own.

And as the three of you settled into random conversation, the heat of your bodies keeping each other warm amidst sips of tea, Gerry can't help but hope for a time when all of his mornings could be like it was right then.

 _Maybe someday_ , is the thought his mind settled on.

Maybe someday.

Because there were things that needed to be done before _maybe_ could become **eventually**. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, last chapter: I'm still working with Mike, I'm trying not to make him too soft or ooc
> 
> Me, this chapter: FUCK IT. Life is short Mike is now smitten. 
> 
> Haha, well at least hopefully he's not too ooc. I just like smoft Mike Crew, that's my food among other things. 
> 
> Anyway, hope y'all enjoy this chapter because the next one hurts!! And the one after that is better but still hurts. So I hope you guys are ready.


	12. Michael Shelley; A History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A history of your relationship with Michael Shelley, before and after his fusion with the Distortion.

It was springtime when you met Michael Shelley.

At the time Gerry had begun a partnership of sorts with Gertrude Robinson - Michael’s boss of six years - which meant that whenever you were in the archives to deliver a message or some findings on your partner’s behalf, the two of you had a habit of running into each other. 

He was around your age - if not maybe a year and a few months older - and yet he _towered_ over you. It was an interesting thing really, to be so incredibly tall and yet have such a harmless, friendly face. He was always wearing a smile when you saw him, one that seemed to glow in the company of his long, curly, golden-blond hair. He felt as if springtime had gathered itself into a human form, soft and warm yet not unbearably so. 

You’d first met when you came into the archives looking for Gerry. Apparently Gertrude had some information regarding the current investigation into the Circus and thought it prudent to share it with the both of you. 

“Excuse me?” You called as you stepped through the door to the archives. 

There was a collection of desks situated near the entrance and sat there was Michael, whose head lifted to meet your gaze. 

"Oh, hello. What can I do for you?" He asked, seemingly a bit surprised anyone was down there at that time. 

“Oh, yeah, I was looking for Gertrude? She asked to see me.” You explained, trying to shake off the feeling of eyes on your back, as well as the general discomfort you felt being in a place of academics. You weren’t fit for these kinds of places, they always made you feel inadequate - like you weren’t smart enough to be there - even if the notion was ridiculous in and of itself. 

Michael, who at the time was just a nameless man sitting at a desk, seemed to notice this though, and offered you a warm smile that differed greatly from the plastic, polite smile the woman at the front desk had been wearing. “Oh? Could I have your name, please? She normally lets us know if she’s expecting anyone.” 

“Oh, right, er, Bailey. Bailey Margo.” You introduced, unconsciously smoothing down your jacket. “My partner might’ve been here earlier? Gerry? Long, black hair? Long, black… everything, actually.” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. 

A spark of recognition flashed behind Michael’s eyes - which were brilliantly blue now that you were looking - and he nodded. “Oh! Right! He’s still here actually. He’s with Ms. Robinson. Would you like me to show you where her office is?” 

“I would love that actually,” you smiled. “Everything kind of looks the same in this place.” 

He chuckled at that, a curious, unique kind of laugh coming from his mouth. You weren't sure how best to describe it other than a bouncy, nervous kind of giggle - like one you force out after a bad joke - yet devoid of any of the actual nervousness. 

“You get used to it after a while,” he said, pushing out his chair and coming to a stand. 

When he unfurled to his full height you mentally paused as your eyes completely took him in, momentarily paralyzed as your mind tried to reconcile with what you saw. Based on his demeanor you hadn’t expected him to be quite so tall, he seemed… somehow smaller in your mind. But there he was about six foot tall, very much taller than you and still patiently waiting for you to follow him. 

“It’s just down this hall,” he smiled once more, gesturing with an arm to the long expanse of dark green walls and white tiles that stretched out in front of you.

“Oh, right, sure” you nodded, forcing yourself to break your stupor in an effort to not look like more of an idiot than you already felt like you were. “Lead the way.” 

You shuffled over to the taller man, walking beside him down the hallway, which seemed to stretch a bit farther than you thought it previously had. 

“So, uh” Michael started, clearly looking to fill the silence. “Ms. Robinson told us the two of you are outside professionals? I was just curious how does - well - how does that work?” he didn’t pose the question in a way that sounded patronizing, but rather genuinely curious. 

“Uh, well” you stuttered, suddenly at a loss for how to explain your 'job' with any kind of normalcy. No one had ever asked you about it before. Not really. Your clients were poor souls being haunted by monsters. They just wanted you to help them and then get the hell out, which you didn’t blame them for, but it hardly gave you practice building a resume. “It’s just field work, really? We spend a lot of time investigating places of interests and hunting down relics or artifacts.” At least Gerry did, but he didn’t have to know that. 

“Oh, I suppose that makes sense.” Michael shrugged, scuffing his shoe on the tile ever so gently. “Gertrude made it seem a bit more mysterious than that, honestly.” It was interesting how he sounded… disappointed? Like he’d been looking for a different kind of answer.

“Oh, trust me it gets pretty mysterious. Just kind of hard to explain if you haven’t done the job yourself, y’know?” you chuckled. 

“I get that,” he said, echoing your chuckle in his own unique way. “Sometimes it’s hard explaining what we do here, and a lot of it is just filing.” 

“I'm sure,” you replied, finding yourself relaxing in his presence. “There’s always going to be people who don’t get it when you’re dealing with esoteric and “spooky” stuff. They expect it all to be Ghost Busters for the most part.” Which was ironic considering you were probably closer to a ghost buster yourself but again, he didn’t need to know that. 

“Yeah, sounds about right,” he agreed just before coming to a slow stop. “Ah, anyway, this is Ms. Robinson’s office.” He said, leading you over to a door at the end of the hallway. “I’ll leave you to it. She can be a bit particular about who is privy to her conversations,” he chuckled, this time with an actual twinge of embarrassment to accompany his laugh. 

“No problem. Thanks for showing me the way, uh…” at that moment it finally dawned on you to look at his nametag, your eyes traveling over to the piece of plastic latched onto his cardigan. “Michael” you smiled, finding it a rather fitting name somehow. “Thank you, Michael.” 

“You’re quite welcome.” He smiled back. “So, I assume this means I’ll probably be seeing you and your partner around the office, then?” It was cute how he sounded almost hopeful of the prospect. 

“I’m sure you will. Don’t imagine we’ll be ending our services with your boss anytime soon.” You snorted softly. You weren’t particularly fond of the old woman but far be it from you to say anything after the hell she’d gotten Gerry out of. He was smiling so much more lately and you were ecstatic to see him looking so happy. And if he felt like he wanted to help her in return then you’d support him. No matter what. 

“I’ll keep an eye out for you, then. Make sure you don’t get lost.” Michael offered, chuckling once more. 

“Thanks, Michael. That would be great.” 

“Sure. Well, I’ll see you later then!”

And that was how you met Michael Shelley.

Hardly anything to write home about but it was the ensuing visits that really made the difference. 

After a while of dropping by the archives, you’d stop to have chats with him, longer and longer with each visit. At some point both you _and_ Gerry would stop to talk to him, sometimes long enough that Gertrude would emerge out of her office to beckon the two of you down the hall with a light scowl and a crooked finger, at which point you’d roll your eyes and promise to see him later before taking off down the hallway with your partner. 

You weren’t sure when you and Gerry started talking about how cute Michael’s laugh was, or when it was that the two of you would tease each other about the possibility of him having a crush on the other - but it certainly did happen. 

“Are you kidding? He always starts fidgeting with something whenever you come around. There's no way he's not into you." You giggled within the safety of your apartment, washing dishes leftover from the dinner Gerry had prepared. 

“I mean, sure, that may be true. But you should see the way he looks at you. He looks proper starstruck.” Gerry teased, regarding you with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

“Really?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing quizzically as a blush sparked over your cheeks at the prospect. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at me like that. Guess I also wasn’t really paying attention.” 

“Love, you’re terribly oblivious when it comes to people crushing on you. Even when it’s obvious.” He chided goodnaturedly. 

“Oh, what, so _you_ were obvious, then?” You teased. 

“Tried not to be but I mean, yeah, pretty much. Even Mike noticed it.” 

“Seriously?” You huffed, rolling your eyes at the matter of fact nod Gerry responded with. “Well, excuse me for being oblivious, I guess.” 

Even if it wasn’t so much that you were oblivious, just more so that your low self esteem prevented you from _ever_ assuming someone could like you in a romantic sense. Which was rather ironic considering you now had three people - possibly four - interested in you in such a way.

“You’re excused.” Gerry smirked, to which you stuck your tongue out at him in response. 

“ _Anyway,_ ” you started, leaving the dishes in the sink as you turned to face your boyfriend. “It’s not like it would matter even if Michael did like me. I’m not sure I’m looking for another partner right now. I mean Tim and I practically just started dating and-” you stopped, a thought suddenly dawning on you. “Wait… do you like him, Ger?” 

Judging by how awkward your boyfriend went at the question - slightly shrinking into himself, breaking eye contact to look at the floor, a hand rubbing at his arm - you knew you had your answer almost immediately. 

“Aw, does my Gerry have a crush?” You giggled, making your way over to sit next to him on the couch. 

“I-I mean,” he tried to defend. You noticed with a certain kind of giddiness the way his cheeks had started to redden. “He’s just… cute, y’know?” 

“I do,” you agreed, smiling as you tucked a few strands of hair behind your boyfriend’s ear. “He’s definitely adorable.” 

“So you like him too then? This isn’t just a me thing?” Gerry asked, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “I mean, of course, if you’re not looking to add someone to the mix then that’s fine too I just-” 

“You’re too cute when you’re flustered,” you chuckled, to which he responded by scoffing loudly. “I’m fine with whatever you want to do, Ger. I just meant that if it was _just_ me then I wasn’t sure I could handle another relationship right now. But if it’s both of us I think it’ll be alright. Of course we’d have to run it by Mike and of course see if Michael’s even interested but…” 

You ran your fingers through his hair once more, a fond smile forming on your lips. “Yeah, I think I’d be fine with it” 

Gerry looked up at you, affectionately staring into your eyes. “Thank you,” he mumbled. 

You grinned gently. “Don’t have to thank me, sweetheart.” 

That night you and Gerry threw around the idea of asking him out to dinner. It was easy enough for him to decline and also, should he accept, probably the least stressful setting for everyone involved. 

So, the next time you went into the archives one late afternoon and found Gerry talking to Michael, who you'd expected to have left by that time, you figured it was the perfect opportunity to invite him out. 

"Hey boys!" You smiled brightly as you made your way over.

"Hey love," Gerry replied, smiling your way.

"O-Oh! Hello, Bailey!" Michael greeted, seeming to straighten his posture, as if trying to appear more professional. Those round cheeks of his had started to darken and you noticed, with a certain fondness, that he'd wrapped a finger into one of his many curls. "Wasn't expecting you for a little bit. Gerry said you were still underground."

"Caught an express train, got me here a lot faster than I was expecting." You shrugged. "What are you doing here so late, Michael?" 

"I was just finishing up actually. I decided to stay a bit later to catch up on some research." He explained. 

"Oh," you started, looking to Gerry knowingly, who just smiled coyly in return. "Would you like to join us for dinner then? We'd been meaning to invite you out for a while but the timing never lined up." 

"O-Oh, really?" Michael stuttered, expression brightening at the offer. "T-That's very nice but I wouldn't want to intrude. I'm sure you two could use some alone time." The hand that was once fingering his hair now twiddled with a pen on his desk. 

"You wouldn't be intruding," you assured him, voice calm and even. "We'd love to have you. In fact," and well, now that you had the line out, you figured you might as well cast it, especially considering Gerry seemed to be quietly encouraging you. "Could even be a date if you'd like?" 

It was fascinating watching as the pen Michael had been twiddling flew completely out of his grasp, halfway across the room. His body went completely rigid even as color pooled ever more into his cheeks. You were sure you heard Gerry try to stifle a laugh as it happened. 

"D-Date?" he sputtered out, soon devolving into nothing but stutters. "Oh, gosh, uhm, I-I don't know. I mean, not that I'm opposed to the idea but I…" He paused, his brain clearly trying to catch up with his mouth. "Me? Really? You're not joking, right?"

You shook your head gently. "Nope. Wasn't a joke," you explained, watching as his eyes lit up in renewed hope. "You know Ger and I are in an open relationship, so if you're interested, we'd like you to be a part of it. Of course it doesn't have to be partners right off the bat, we can do the dating thing and see if it works for you. And if not, that's fine too." 

Michael looked at you bewildered, his brain trying to compute the validity of the words that had come out of your mouth. "I… really?" He asked, searching the expressions of both yourself and your partner for any sign of deceit, of trickery. But when he couldn't find any, he looked back to you, hanging on every word that came out of your mouth. 

"Mmhm," you hummed softly, nodding slowly. "If it's something you would like to explore then we'd be happy to have you." 

"I, uh," he rubbed at the back of his neck, lips gradually turning upright at the corner of his mouth as reality began to make sense in his mind again. "I think I'd like that. Quite a lot, actually. I've, er, fancied the both of you for a while now. I just… didn't know if there was a possibility that either of you would be interested." 

You couldn't stop the goofy, giddy smile that stretched over your lips. "Aw, Michael, of course we would!" You cooed quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in tight to you. The soft gasp he let out, as well as the way he froze in your arms was not lost on you, and neither was the way he fell into your embrace only a second later. "We think you're rather adorable and quite the joy to be around. Why do you think we spend so much time with you, silly?" 

"I suppose it never occurred to me," Michael chuckled, quiet voice echoing against your skin. "I thought you two were just being nice." 

"Gerry doesn't do small talk," you chuckled. 

Gerry snorted at that. "Hey, neither do you." 

"That's fair, I really don't." You laughed, slowly pulling away from the blond man. 

"Could've fooled me," Michael chuckled. "It feels like we've spent hours talking here in the office." 

"Well, you're special. So count yourself lucky," Gerry chimed in, sending the blond man a wink.

Michael responded with a more pronounced smile, one not as shy, even as his cheeks remained flushed. "Oh, believe me, I do." 

"Well, now that you know how special you are, what do you say to wrapping up here and coming out to dinner with us?" You offered once again. 

He was practically beaming. "I think that's a brilliant idea." 

That was how your relationship with Michael Shelley began. 

Watching him try to navigate around how to handle having two partners was probably the cutest thing you'd ever seen. He was rather attentive to the both of you - forever worried he wasn't paying enough attention to the two of you equally - so affirmation was never an issue, and in return whenever he was feeling inadequate you made sure to smother him in love; sometimes to the point he'd just start making noises rather than speaking any actual words. 

For six wonderful months you got to experience this new relationship, to revel in this new person who brought just as much joy into your life as your other partners, but in his own special way. Michael was affectionate in a way you had yet to experience from a person. Your partners all had their own special flavors that made them unique and indeed all of them were kind and good to you; but Michael was new. 

Gerry was still learning how to be more expressive at that time, grappling with his touch starved-ness and trying to accept that he could seek you out as a remedy for such a thing. Because even though he knew he could it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty or vulnerable - in a way he hadn’t been allowed to be - every time he reached for your hand. 

Mike had never been very touchy feely in the first place, moreso willing to let idle conversations on top of buildings and in cafes be his love language. He was similar to Gerry in the sense that reaching for someone for comfort wasn’t something he was _used_ to doing but unlike Gerry felt far more uncomfortable seeking it out. 

Then of course there was Tim, who was probably the most physically affectionate partner you’d ever had. But a lot of that touch was sensual or flirty in nature. Never anything beyond your boundaries of course but his way of expressing his affection was hot and bold, a stark contrast to both Gerry and Mike. 

Michael however - he wanted to reach for your hand just to hold it as you walked down the sidewalk. To be connected with you in some small physical way at all times. His touch didn’t come with the flirtatious nature Tim’s did. Michael’s was _soft._ Gentle. He wanted his body tangled up with yours, cuddled up on the couch, and even if his cheeks were set ablaze anytime he got what he wanted, he still wasn’t afraid to ask for it once he knew it was acceptable. He was new and adorable and you treasured every moment you had with him.

Then he went to Sannikov Land. 

And the last time you ever saw Michael Shelley - as you had met him - was at the airport before he left.

When Gertrude came back alone, with no sympathy to spare for the love you'd lost, you felt like screaming. You didn't. But you knew there were tears dripping down your cheeks as she passed you, excusing herself to someplace or another, leaving you standing there in her office; eyes on your back as something drank in your pain. 

You think you might've screamed then. 

When you saw Michael again it was two weeks later. He appeared in your apartment, sitting on the couch lost and confused. And you, in your overwhelming disbelief, just held him and tried to guide him through his new existence. Because you knew Michael Shelley - as you had met him - didn't exist anymore. There was no way he could. He was still enough "that person" that he knew he loved you, knew he loved Gerry, but there was more now. 

There were things warping and twisting him and Michael knew, in an excruciatingly intimate way, the thing that had claimed his friend Ryan. He knew the kind of hollow pit that came with being an avatar, the one that made a person want to give it all up if it meant the guilt would stop - the kind of pit _you_ always fought to control. 

You don't know when that pit consumed him, when the Distortion really took a foothold in their shared existence, but you knew taking people into the death maze that now occupied his being wore heavily on Michael's heart. The betrayal done to him wore almost as heavy, and you could see it in his eyes that he not only wondered why Gertrude had done it, but if he'd deserved it for being so naive - for being so blind. 

Perhaps it was a moment in which Michael doubted - because all it took was a moment - that the creature seized the opportunity to control him, to become the dominant presence within the two of them. 

All you knew was that you remembered coming home, seeing Michael there, and knowing that crooked smile, that sharp gaze and that poised stance did not belong to him. The way he spoke to you, devoid of any affection or fluster, did not belong to him. That rippling, high pitched noise that rang in your ears when you looked at this new creature did not belong to him. And if you hadn't realized it the minute you walked in, The Distortion certainly made sure you were aware of it. 

"I'm still Michael, sweet Mortician," it giggled. "Even if neither of us would like it to be as such." 

" _You_ are not _my_ Michael." You sneered. " _My_ Michael doesn't look at me like I'm prey." 

"Was Michael ever truly yours if he could give up so easily?" It grinned. "Or, in fact, can an existence ever belong to another?" 

"Michael might not have belonged to me, but there's a difference between the Michael I know - _my_ Michael - and the Michael you're pretending to be." 

"And yet," it sighed. "I am still Michael, as I've said."

But you held firm, eyes boring into its color shifting, dangerous ones. "You might be part of him but there's still a difference between you two, Distortion. And I will get him back one day." 

There was a curious glint in those eyes, accompanied by an ever widening smile that fell open just the slightest bit. "Is that so?" It said, slowly. "Then I'd be very interested to see you try." 

Then it was gone, disappearing into the air. 

And for the second time you felt that familiar anguish of loss wash over you, felt the cold sting of having someone, once again, unceremoniously ripped away from you. Somehow it hurt even worse knowing it was the same person, thinking you'd had him back, only to lose him once again.

Michael, as he had become, was still around after that - although sparingly - and as the evidence would show, when he did pop up it was normally to antagonize you. To push your buttons. It would question you about your own nature, prod you about the underlying horror of your own being because it _delighted_ in knowing how much you hated that part of yourself. Anything to get under your skin, to warp your perceptions, that was its medicine. 

But you swore, in the moments where that creature was quiet, _your_ Michael would bleed through. 

You'd catch glimpses of sorrow in those eyes that were often too hard to look at for too long. You'd feel just the slightest bit of tenderness as those long fingernails glided over your cheek, the initial action meant to be taunting, but all at once melting into a moment where Michael Shelley recognized your skin and missed the way it felt against his own. You would watch with a sinking regret as those somber blue eyes snapped back to bright yellow - the Distortion pushing Michael's innate tenderness to the back of their shared being. 

And it's fingers would fall away from your face, an eerie, almost annoyed grin on it's face. 

"I think that's enough for today. Goodbye, Mortician." And it would exit through its bright, yellow door taking Michael with it. 

You got used to it after a while. So did Gerry. At least as much as you possibly could. You tried to reason with yourselves that at least Michael was still there and maybe, if you looked hard enough, you could find a way to get him back. Find a way to separate him from the Distortion again. Maybe if you could get a hold of that map Gertrude had given him or something like it. If you could get to it's heart then surely…

But then something appears in your living room about a month after your encounter with the NotThem; and that plan is left unfinished. 

It's a face you don't wholly recognize. A _person_ you don't wholly recognize. This one is more feminine in nature, dressed in a three piece suit, a far cry from it's previous image. 

But those sharp fingers, that incredibly long, stretched out figure is something that you do know. These are characteristics that only belong to one creature that you'd become all too familiar with. 

This new face doesn't _yet_ smile when it speaks. It's too new to share the joy of existing as a maze of absurdity and death. Too new not to feel the guilt of what it was required to do to stay alive, it's very existence ripped from whoever it used to be before it mixed with the Distortion. 

"Hello, Mortician." 

And as the realisation dawns on you, a certain kind of dread you'd yet to experience sinks into your very soul. It gripped you and you felt like all the air in your lungs had been stolen away from you. 

"My name is Helen." 

Michael was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER ALERT:  
> Michael is fine, do not worry. We've just gotta get some of that angst in there before we "fix" things. 
> 
> Next chapter is almost done so hopefully I can get that up in a couple of days owo
> 
> Also yes, in my head, Michael is an easily flustered softboi pre-Distortion and I love him sm even though we hear him for all of two minutes. 
> 
> Similarly I think it's pretty obvious (at least from my point of view) that the Distortion kind of has it's own personality. We see it bleed through both with Helen and Michael and while I think it definitely adopts traits of the people it's fused with, I feel like as it is a stronger presence it inevitably bleeds through more than they do. Idk I have a lot of thoughts about the Distortion and maybe I'll write a character study about it one day lol


	13. My Love, Where Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is gone...  
> And then he's not.

"My name is Helen." 

That's what it said, but the world felt fuzzy, like everything is on low volume and moving in slow motion. Everything feels wrong and cold and you just don't _understand._

_How_ could this have happened? _When_ could this have happened? Where- 

"But, I suppose you once knew me as someone else, didn't you?" 

You blinked at it, trying to process what was happening in front of you. 

"Michael…" You mumbled, pained just to say his name. "Where is Michael?"

It straightens it's shoulders. "Actually, that's why I've come to talk to you." 

You blinked at it again, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I'm sorry? I'm afraid I don't understand..." 

"Comprehension in this particular situation is always rather difficult. I thought you would have learned that by now." It said, more matter-of-factly than it was patronizing. "In simple terms I suppose you could say that Michael has been "kicked out" and in his place there is me." 

Your mind buzzed with a thousand different questions, but only one came out.

"And you're… you're Helen?" 

It nodded, blinking it's bright, yellow eyes once. "Correct." 

"Then if Michael's been "kicked out" where is he? What happened to him?" You asked, your fear turning to urgency, to panic. 

"He got distracted, let revenge overwhelm us. Now what's left of him is wandering about inside." 

A small spark of hope ignited in the bottom of your heart. "He's still alive? In the corridors?" 

"Yes. Which is why I came to you." 

You threw up an eyebrow, watching this creature before you with a newfound skepticism.

"Why me?" You asked.

"Self is difficult as is without him mulling about. I am…" It stopped for a moment, seemingly trying to gather it's thoughts. It was fascinating to watch really. You'd never know the Distortion to falter or hesitate. But then you supposed this person was new. This person was like Michael had been. "I am unsure if I was ever supposed to be Helen, and she is unsure of being me. Michael being around makes the distinction that much harder." 

You couldn't help the indignant snort that left you. "So what, Michael is causing you identity issues? Isn't that your whole thing? To toe the line of reality and unreality?"

It sighed at that. "While that might be true, having such a disconnect within myself is new and difficult to navigate. At least with Michael we shared something in common. Helen is new, _I_ am new."

"And where do I fit into this?" 

"You loved Michael didn't you? You wanted him back, didn't you?" 

Your heart paused in your chest. 

"Yes…" You breathed. "Yes, of course I do." 

"Then perhaps we can do each other a favor." It propositioned, folding its long fingers together. "Take Michael out and you can keep him. There's no more use for him in the hallways." 

You weren't sure why you hesitated, why you didn't jump at the chance. Maybe it was because you knew this creature well, knew it's antics, it's deceit. This felt too much like a trap, like something too good to be true.

So you asked. "And how do I know you're not lying?" 

"You don't, but I could show you." 

That familiar, yellow door appeared in your living room once again. Helen took two long strides over to it and wrapped her hand around the handle. When she opened the door you were greeted with the sight of that long, familiar corridor, seeming to stretch on forever until, at last, it didn't. 

At the end of that hallway was a figure. 

You stepped closer, not through the threshold, but close enough that the figure had taken the shape of a person. 

He had long, curly blond hair that you used to run your fingers through at any chance you possibly could. 

It was Michael. 

He was staring into a mirror at the end of the hallway. You couldn't see his face but this image before you felt real. Maybe it was because of your own fruitful desires, but you wanted to believe that it was really Michael. 

Your feet moved through that threshold almost of their own accord, moving slowly closer and closer to Michael, closing the distance with every step you took. 

Gradually, his face came into view through the reflection in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were puffy, like he'd been crying. He was staring at himself so intently, eyes bouncing around to the different parts of himself that had changed, that had reverted. His fingers were a normal length for a human, no longer sharp, and though he had always been tall, in this form he had lost about two inches. Likewise his limbs were now proportionate to his body. 

The only thing that stood out to you - and you noticed it as your reflection joined his in the mirror - were his eyes. His left was the same bright blue he had when you first met him but his right was a glowing yellow color, one you'd often seen the Distortion wearing. 

"Michael…?" You called his name softly, acutely afraid that this image would break, that it was a trap.

But those eyes of his darted to your image in the mirror, regarding it with a mixture of shock and pain. Michael spun on his heel to face you, moving so quickly he almost tripped over himself. 

For the longest time he just stared at you, seemingly trying to decide if you were real or just another hallucination that these hallways had decided to torture him with. But then you smiled at him, that same warm smile he'd fallen in love with and the truth became a bit clearer. 

"Michael? It's me, darling. It's Bailey." You held out both of your hands to him, a gesture of acceptance, of vulnerability. "I don't quite understand why but… Helen wants me to take you out of here. I…" 

Your gaze fell to the floor as tears prickled behind them, trying to blink them back, and then you looked back up at him again. "I came to bring you home."

His hands are shaking when he slowly - ever so slowly - reaches past your open palms to hold your face in his grasp. His fingers are cold when they brush against your skin, a stark contrast to the static, uncomfortable warmth they used to be. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, registering the skin that moved against his and as he did his eyes began to widen ever more. 

This was real, he realized. 

You were real. 

You were here with him. 

"Bailey…" He choked out, his eyes beginning to shine with tears. 

"Hey Michael." You smiled, lifting your hands to place them over his. "I missed you…" 

Shame pooled into those eyes of his as he slipped his hands through the cracks of your own, retreating them to his side as though he'd been caught touching something he wasn't allowed to. His gaze falls from yours down to the ground, unable to even look at you. 

"I'm… I'm so sorry… for everything I did to you…" His voice hitched as he spoke. 

"Oh, Michael…" You breathed, every bit of your heart crumbling to hear him sound so defeated. 

You stepped closer to him and wrapped your arms around him quicker than he had time to recognize, pulling him in close to you. You noticed immediately how every part of him seized up, frightened and worried - he knew he didn't deserve this comfort - only to feel him sink in against you, leaning into that embrace he so craved, as you opened your mouth yet again. 

"You don't have to be sorry. That wasn't you. You had no control of yourself." You soothed, pulling him in ever closer to yourself. 

"But I should have." He countered, his head dropping mournfully onto your shoulder. "I should've been stronger. I could've gotten you killed leading you to that monster." 

"You were as strong as you could be, Michael." You reaffirmed. "And that wasn't you who led me to that creature, it was the Distortion and you know that. I know you wouldn't put me in danger of your own volition." 

You felt his fingers grip onto you, digging into your shoulders as they sought after a tether to this new reality. "How can you just forgive me so easily? You know what I've done." 

"Because I love you and I believe in you." You heard his breath catch in his throat. 

"And I know you didn't choose this. If it had been in your control this would've never happened. But you were used. You were tricked. I don't blame you for being angry, for giving up. I'm not sure I could've done any different in your shoes." 

Michael doesn't say anything, just holds onto you even tighter. His tears are soaking through the shoulder of your jacket but you couldn't care about that, not when he was in your arms again, breathing and alive. 

"Let me take you home, Michael." 

He was quiet for a moment. 

"Is there... even a home for me out there?" He mumbled into your skin.

Gently, you pulled back from him, enough to see his face. His cheeks are wet and flushed, eyes shrouded with uncertainty. 

A loving smile tinged with sympathy creased its way onto your lips as you tucked a lock of curls behind his ears. "Of course there is, love. Gerry and I have always been willing to be your home. If you want it that is." 

Your hand curled around his ear, settling on his cheek as he stared back at you. The way he looked at you begged you to answer why you were trying so hard for him. Why couldn't you just leave him there to rot away with his guilt?

Why did you want to bring him home? 

You didn't answer the question he posed with his eyes, just slipped the fingers of your left hand into his right and squeezed them reassuringly. Likewise, the fingers resting on his cheek wipe away the stray tears still dripping from his eyes. 

"Are you sure?" He asked, quiet and vulnerable. 

You were definitive in your answer. "Of course I am." 

A moment longer of agonizing deliberation, his eyes casted down to the floor. 

He took a shuddering breath. "Okay…." 

He looked up at you, gripping your hand tightly in his own. He surrendered his hesitance. “Okay.” 

You smiled back at him encouragingly, willing your own tears to stay their course as a flurry of relief settled into every nerve ending. “Okay.”

When you turned, intent on making your way out of that awful place, you’d almost expected the door you came through to have been long gone, and yet when you fully faced it’s direction you found it exactly as it was - still the same color even. Gently, you tugged Michael down along those corridors, holding onto his hand as he followed behind you. 

You reached for the handle when you were close enough, wrapping your fingers around the knob and expecting to see the interior of your apartment when you pushed the door open. Of course, it couldn’t all be that simple could it? 

What you saw instead when that door opened was the image of a book shop. One that looked rather familiar actually. 

It was a small little thing, shoved in between two other establishments. Through the storefront window you can see that the walls are painted black and the lights inside are a soft blue color rather than a fluorescent white. There’s a neon green sign on the door that reads “Repurposed Lives.” 

_“What made you think of that?” Gerry had asked during a time that had long since passed. A time in which he was starting up his own shop._

_“Well, because that’s what it is essentially, yeah? It’s all of your mom’s old stock being repurposed for your new life without her. Seems fitting I think.” You grinned brightly._

_Gerry’s bewildered expression softened, his eyes overwhelming with a fond nature as he looked at you. “That’s incredibly cheesy.” He chuckled. “But I think I like it.”_

The memory - a sweet recollection that lived rent free in your mind - is what finally got you to realize what you were standing in front of. 

“Figured you could use the lift.” Helen’s voice fizzled into the air and a moment later so did she, materializing just in front of you with all the grace of a bad T.V. signal - her body wave-forming into existence. “You’re going to have to tie up those loose ends when he gets home anyway.” She explained, her expression placid. 

“A warning would’ve been nice.” You responded dryly. 

“Well, quite. But you’re here now, might as well make the most of it.” 

You sighed, a hard and heavy thing before you turned to Michael who had gone a few shades paler since you’d opened the door. “Are you okay with this, Michael? I mean she has a point, we are going to have to talk to him, but did you want a breather first?” 

Michael let out a soft breath of air, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No.” He said. “No. Better we see him now. I’m not sure any amount of time is going to make this conversation easier.” 

You ran a finger over his knuckles, trying to be comforting. “If you’re sure.” You can tell that he isn’t but he’s willing to do it. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.” 

Michael looked at you, a tiny, flustered sliver of a smile worming its way to the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I… I don’t know about that…” 

“ _I_ do.” You affirmed. “ And he will. Trust me.” 

His smile grew ever so slightly, still shy, still unsure, but he seemed at least a little bit less anxious at your reassurance. “Alright…” 

Helen extends an arm out in the direction of the shop, stepping to the side to allow the both of you to exit the hallways that no longer belonged to Michael, but to her. 

Even though the transference had apparently been some time ago, you can practically feel the shift in ownership, the change of reality as you pulled Michael through the threshold that he’d been bound to for so long. Instinctively, you turned to look at him and your heart swelled in a way that it almost didn’t fit in your chest anymore. 

He looked… alive. The guilt is still there behind his eyes but at their center there’s something more. Something different. He feels the cold, winter air against his skin, feels the pavement beneath his feet - feels the world as he used to, through the lense of who he used to be, rather than a creature of depravity and madness. The world no longer feels like a mess of hot static and swirling color too bright to even look at but instead it feels unendingly human and even though he knows he is no more human than Helen is, the perception of feeling emotions and sensations in the ways he used to is so… beautiful. 

He never thought a cold winter’s night would make him feel reborn. But it did. And so did your warm fingers wrapped into his. 

“Come on,” you grinned, ushering him closer to the door. “Someone’s waiting to see you.” 

Michael stumbled after you, letting you in your glee lead him into the shop, despite the anxiety biting at every end of him. To feel human again also meant that he felt all those old insecurities, all those old flustered habits. But he trusted you. Trusted that you’d stay with him. Trusted that you’d get him through this. Even if he knew he didn’t deserve it. 

The chime of a bell rang out amongst the shop as you pulled Michael through the door. 

Gerry is at the counter with a tall, lanky figure that almost looks familiar but the both of you are too preoccupied with what Gerry is going to think of all this that you don’t pay too much attention to the person. 

“Gerry!” You called, watching as his eyes traveled from the person he’d been engaged with over to you, brightening almost immediately once he saw you. “I hope you don’t mind but I brought a friend with me. I thought you might like to see him.” 

There’s a gentle giddiness in your heart when Gerry’s gaze followed the motion of your arm as you gestured to Michael, his eyes narrowing for a moment as he catches sight of the man before him, still unaware of the change that had taken place. But then something clicks, and you see the moment it happens because his eyes widen and every part of his posture goes rigid in shock. 

“...Michael?” 

Then the person at the counter turns around almost in a panic. And you recognize him immediately. 

“Jon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Michael is back! 
> 
> And with that updates are probably going to be slower. 
> 
> I HAD known where I wanted to take this story but it's getting away from me a small bit and I'm losing more and more steam writing it because there are other fics and ideas that I want to write and explore. So I figure I'll take a small break with this and get it out of my system.
> 
> Anyway, we'll see what happens. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. All comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you all so much for the love on this it really means a lot!
> 
> Also, the chapter title is from Surrender by Natalie Taylor because that song HURTS in the best possible way.

**Author's Note:**

> Is the fic title a reference to Alice: Madness Returns? Yes. And if you knew that I love you and you're great.


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